


This is Luxury

by sacrificeplay



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Angst, BAMF Peggy Carter, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gang Rape, Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapped Tony Stark, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Panic Attacks, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacrificeplay/pseuds/sacrificeplay
Summary: Luxurious. Grand. Immaculate.Just a few words that could not quite capture the extravagance of the Stark mansion where Tony Stark was born and raised. The Avengers are amazed and impressed, and Captain America is in awe to be in the presence of the place where his great friend from the past, Howard Stark, used to live. Surely, such luxury must be the reason why the genius grew to be the arrogant, egoistic man he is often described to be.A few tapes from the man's childhood and a traumatized Tony beg to differ.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 137
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for clicking! A few notes to keep in mind just to avoid confusion:  
> -Tony STILL has the arc reactor and needs it to live.  
> -The events of Afghanistan, Obadiah's betrayal, and the New York battle all happened in the span of the same year and are all considered recent events.  
> -Tony is young in this fic just because I want to make him more vulnerable. I won't mention his exact age, but he will be described in future updates to be in his late 20's/early 30's. 
> 
> ***THIS FANFIC DEALS WITH DARK, TRIGGERING MATTERS. PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND AND LOOK THROUGH THE TAGS BEFORE READING. THERE ARE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS.
> 
> Thank you so much for clicking again. I will not be abandoning this fic. I have multiple chapters already written out, just under major editing. I hope you stick around :) 
> 
> Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.

It wasn’t a shock. Tony knew Fury would decide upon this, no questions asked. He also knew there was nothing to negotiate. This was the safest place for the Avengers after the tower, regardless of how it wasn’t so for him for the longest time. His serious case of PTSD was protesting heavily against this, but he knew he would have to eventually suck it up and recall his priorities list, which currently held the Avengers’ safety at the very top. His mental health has been in steady decline for as long as he can remember, and traumatic events have been popping up in his life as often as new software updates did on his computer. 

Still, it sent the shrapnels surrounding his heart into a frenzy upon his escalating irregular breathing. He could often feel some sort of sharp ache in the center of his chest because of them. He could almost feel the sharp metal pieces hit against the exterior wall of the arc reactor as his breaths came shorter and shorter.

“You need to get them out of the tower as soon as possible, most preferably by noon, until we can make sure the tower is safe. These HYDRA agents are sneaky, and I’m sure they must have bugged the place if they were able to get through JARVIS as easily as they did,” Fury murmured. “Any idea how that might have happened?” 

“Override codes. These bastards must have snuck up in my room or something,” Tony sighed. “God, I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I’m too sober for this.” 

And with that promise, Tony went to announce the location of the place the Avengers were going to be settled in for a couple of days until the tower gets inspected and debugged. 

“Tony? Are you alright? You look pale,” Bruce’s concerned face chimed in as soon as Tony entered the communal kitchen area where the team was present. 

“Peachy,” Tony coughed. He got a piece of paper and pen out of his jeans’ pocket. His hands shaking and his eyesight blurry as he wrote down the plan.

“Tony?” Steve spoke with a fondness in his voice that Natasha noticed was reserved only for the billionaire. Tony didn’t answer in fear that his voice would betray him to reveal just how much of a wreck he is. He drew a shaky breath as he flipped the paper around so they could read what he wrote. 

WE THINK THE PLACE IS BUGGED. WE NEED TO MOVE TO A SAFER PLACE. I KNOW WHERE. THERE’S A CAR OUTSIDE WAITING FOR US. FOLLOW ME OUT AND ACT NORMAL.

Tony put his hand over the arc reactor as he suppressed a wince. Clint noticed. He waited until the genius made eye contact with him before signing _Where?_

Tony took the paper back and suppressed the need to draw in another breath. A few seconds later the paper was flipped back to the team. 

THE MANSION. WHERE I WAS BORN AND RAISED.

Tony’s heart ached once more as he noticed Steve’s face brighten and his eyes glimmer.

* * *

He thanked the will power that prevented him from breaking his progress of months and months of sobriety upon hearing the news alone. Thankfully, he has mastered the arts of keeping it together on the surface for far too long, and right now, he was drenched in terror and panic, but his eyes didn’t spill a thing. He put his hand over the steering wheel, driving himself closer and closer to a hell he pathetically thought had been escaped.

“I always saw that place on TV growing up. My dad used to watch those interviews of Howard’s in his house with his jaw on the floor,” Clint shared. “Can’t believe I'm gonna see it in real life! Might pay my old man a visit just to tell him all about it. Not to mention how I’m dying to see your room.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Get anywhere near my room and I’m adding a boomerang feature to your arrows,” Tony said lightheartedly, but his mind was clad in anxiety and absolute paranoia over the thought of any of the Avengers wandering around his childhood room. 

He looked through the rearview mirror at Steve to see that look of excitement still in his eyes. He knew that visiting the mansion was Steve’s chance to connect to something from the past. He could tell that the soldier grew depressed over his inability to find closure with how the past has ended. Steve’s therapist always reported back to Tony as the consultant of the team to let him know of how the soldier’s mind was functioning, and she explained that forcing Steve to look on the bright side of events and to accept the future falls under a toxic sense of positivity.

_“Allow him to yearn. Allow him to visit the past. After all, it’s not like he’s going back to it. He’s only trying to cope.”_

And so, Tony looked on the road ahead and said, “Hey, Steve? You’re gonna love Howard’s study room. He’s always kept a bunch of photographs of you guys together around. You can take a look when we arrive there.” 

“Wha—really?” Steve smiled at Tony’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

 _Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. You can hear the smile in his voice. Seeing it is going to crush your soul._

“Yup. The guy loved you, y’know? I’m pretty sure he would want you to have them, even.” 

“Woah, so you knew of Man of Iron’s father on a personal level? I thought it was only a matter of business,” Thor asked. 

“Yeah, he was my friend. A really good friend. He was such a good man and he was one of the funniest people I have ever come across,” Steve said, his voice clad in reminiscence. Tony suppressed a wince yet again. 

“Guys! We’re here!” Bruce cheered from the passenger seat as the old mansion came into view. Tony’s hands held on tighter to the steering wheel. He debated whether he should just make a turn for some hotel and tell Fury to go fuck himself, but his list of priorities had him park by the driveway as he came to a stop. 

“Let me guess. You had it sport the abandoned-building look to keep intruders away, huh? ‘Cause gotta say, y’nailed it,” Natasha pointed out. 

“Bingo. But don’t worry, I have people who come here often and take care of the place on the inside. SHIELD also sent in people before us to make sure it’s all good.” 

They all got out of the car with Tony lingering longer in there as he slowly switched the vehicle off. Every hair and pore in his body was demanding him to run and not look back, but he knew he had no choice. 

The Avengers waited for their consultant to lead the way. His shaky hands and aching heart opened the door to the mansion, and a string of impressed phrases erupted. The house was grand; neutral colors painted the walls to bring out its elegant design, antique furniture embroidered with gold and clad in silk, immaculate white ceramic floors, and golden staircases that looked like they would lead to heaven. 

Tony shuddered. 

“Fuck me! If I grew up in a place like that, I’d be an egoistic bastard too!” Clint exclaimed.

“Should’ve been my fucking guest, birdie,” Tony, still sporting the art of keeping it together, joked. “Anyway, I’ll show you to your rooms.” 

They followed him around to check their rooms, all of which looked the same. He showed them the way to various other rooms, and pointed to where Howard’s study room is 

_You will break._

for Steve’s sake. They didn’t fail to notice that there were no pictures around the place of a young Tony Stark, but only pictures of the Stark couple. Finally, they stopped right in front of his room. “Right. This,” he pointed to the door frame, “was my room. You do not under any circumstances enter it. You hear that? It’s locked, but I know it’s nothing a bunch of superheroes can’t break. Nevertheless, I do not want any of you in here. Please. I never say please, so this should be enough for you to realize that I really don’t want you in there, okay?” 

They all nodded, but Tony did notice Natasha’s eyes narrow in curiosity. 

* * *

Tony cooked while Steve stood to the side to hand him things from cupboards the genius was too short to reach as the team sat on stools by the table. 

“Gosh, this kitchen looks so lovely. Why don’t you install the designs in the kitchen of the tower, Tony?” Bruce asked. 

“Meh.” 

“Rich people always wanna act like what they have is mediocre,” Clint started. “Quit being a brat, Stark.” 

_You wanna be a brat? I’ll show you what that gets you_. 

The short genius didn’t respond, instead pretending to be too busy stirring the concussion in the pot. He felt drained and tired, but he knew he won’t be getting any sleep for as long as he’s here. 

As if by some miracle, Fury called him to tell him that he’s needed in the tower. “We found a few bugs and disabled them, but we want you here to figure out the codes and technology of it all. JARVIS is refusing to answer to us. Apparently, your bot is too paranoid that someone will hack into it again. Keeps saying it’ll only answer to you.” 

“As he should,” Tony answered as he chewed on rice. “Alright, I’m gonna be on my way.” 

“Fury? He wants us back already?” Steve asked. 

“No. You guys stay here. Especially you, Cap. He wants me in the tower for the night because they found a couple of bugs and JARVIS isn’t being cooperative.” 

Tony was basically tiptoeing on his feet with excitement to leave this place already. He practically bolted out of the kitchen as the terror seeped out of his pores with every step that neared the main door.

_Gosh, I really am fifteen again._

* * *

“Stark’s acting weird,” Natasha said as she landed heavily on one of the couches in the living room. 

“He’s probably worried about the tower and what happened to JARVIS,” Bruce suggested as he wandered near the fireplace. There were pictures of Howard and Maria Stark hung above. Young, carefree, and rich. There were multiple pictures of a pregnant Maria Stark in what seemed to be a professional photoshoot. Howard was nowhere to be seen in at least one of these photos. 

Clint and Thor were in the library room searching for a photo of the young version of the genius but failed. “We should break into his room already,” Clint moaned in defeat as he made his way to the living room. 

“No. He said no, so don’t,” Natasha said. “Or I'll tell him.”

“You’re no fun.” 

“Where is the Captain?” Thor asked. 

“In Howard’s study room. He’s been in there for a while now,” Bruce answered. “I’m gonna go check on him.” 

The rest of the team got up to check on the Captain as well and saw him sat on the floor by a box as he went through what’s in it. Photographs and papers were neatly separated in boxes, and Steve was currently going through the various photographs. He went through each photo slowly, as if anything faster than such pace would be offensive. He traced over the faces of Howard and Peggy. He was quite shocked to see photos of Tony as what can’t be past the age of five wearing a Captain America shirt and smiling up at Peggy who was knelt to be of his level of sight, a man of slender figure who Steve didn’t recognize holding Tony up with a bright smile on his face. Steve smiled. 

“Steve?” Bruce’s voice chimed in. “You okay?” 

“Look what I found,” Steve’s voice was fond and soft. “There are pictures of Tony in here.” 

“No freakin’ way! Lemme see!” 

“Clint, you are irritating,” Natasha joked as she went to check out the photos too. 

Everyone was soon gathered around going through the pictures that included Tony, which were noticeably few. 

“The Man of Iron was what you Midgardians call ‘cute’,” Thor cooed as he smiled fondly at a photo of Tony smiling wide at the camera while holding a circuit board. 

“What a nerd. He looks, what? Four? Maybe six if I'm stretching it. Can’t he play with normal toys or something?” Clint stated. 

The team mindlessly went through picture after picture until Natasha caught a picture of what came off as an innocent family photo posing in front of a Christmas tree. Various people were in the frame, and she easily recognized Peggy and Obadiah. That’s not what caught her attention, however. Tony’s face did. His eyes looked glossy and the skin surrounding his left one looked slightly discolored from oxidized makeup. His smile didn’t stretch to his eyes, and his stance looked quite defensive. It didn’t settle right with her, but she figured perhaps he was probably upset that day and let it go. 

She got up from her crouched position on the floor to walk around the grand study room. The bookshelves hid the walls, and dusty books were stacked neatly in them. A book titled in Russian caught the redhead’s attention, and her lithe fingers took it off the shelf to skim through the epilogue before deeming it not up to her taste. As she made her way to return the book to its place, she noticed a piece of cardboard jut out of the empty space. Out of curiosity, she took more books out of the shelf and realized what was hidden behind was a dusty, taped box. She placed the books on the floor to take the box out. Soon, her and Clint were carefully opening the box. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Guys look what Nat found!” 

Steve sighed heavily as he ran out of photos to look through and got up to see what Clint and Natasha were rummaging through. He decided he would ask Tony upon his return if he could keep a few pictures. However, judging from the box Natasha discovered, he still had a box of tapes to watch. “Is there a tape player in this place?” 

“I saw one in the living room by the TV,” Clint said as he grabbed the box and got up to make his way to the living room. “Bruce, make some popcorn. We’re in for a long movie night starring the Starks!” 

* * *

Some of the tapes were labeled, and they only said FOR HOWARD STARK. Steve was the one to pick, and he started off with an unlabeled tape. They all settled in on the same couch, except for Bruce who sat on the floor. 

Howard came into view. 

_“This is test 3 of experiment 555. Updates have been made and a new chip has been installed. Battery life should last a lot longer. Approximately for 5 days,” Howard informed as he connected a few wires to a machine. He was halfway through powering it up until he got interrupted._

_“Five, four, three—”_

_“Dad! Dad! Dad!” a toddler’s voice called out, and a few seconds in, a young Tony came into frame. Howard’s face immediately wore an angry frown. “Look! I built a circuit board! I made this! Like you! I’ve been working on it since last night and—”_

_“Where the fuck did you get the material from?”_

_Tony’s cheerful smile immediately faltered._

_“Um, from your lab. I saw you throw away some stuff, so I wanted to recy—”_

_“Who the fuck gave you access to my lab?”_

_The tiny brunet's eyes were wide in confusion and fear as he stumbled upon his words._

Steve’s eyes were narrowed in something foreign—something he didn’t want to associate to the older Stark as he watched the events unfold. 

_“Y-You left the lab doors open the other night, dad. So I—”_

_A loud, sudden slap to the face interrupted the little boy, and sent him tumbling to the floor; his circuit board hitting the hard floor and broken to pieces._

The Avengers let out a gasp as it happened, except for Steve whose heart silently dropped to his feet.

_“Rule number one, never fucking call me ‘dad’, it’s Sir. Rule number two, never fucking come into my lab without my permission. Do you hear that?” Howard seethed._

_Soundless tears ran down Tony’s cheeks as he looked up to his father._

_“Quit fucking crying, you wimp. Stark men don’t cry! Stark men are made of iron!” Howard yelled._

_“Yes, Sir. I-I'm sorry,” the little boy said before he got up and aggressively wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt as he stumbled out of the room and out of frame._

_Howard sighed heavily as he cursed under his breath and grabbed at the camera to end the recording._

* * *

“Did... did that just happen?” Clint asked in disbelief. 

“He looked so young. Judging by the date on the tape he’s... four!” Bruce said. 

“You deemed him a good man. What is this then?” Thor asked a silent Steve. 

“I don’t know. This can’t be right. He... might have been just angry or upset that day? But Jesus fucking Christ this... this isn’t right!” Steve sighed in frustration as he looked around the room, his eyes landing on Natasha who was sporting furrowed eyebrows. “You look like you know something we don’t” 

“No. He never told me anything. But I remember when I was spying on him as his assistant, he got so drunk one night and started mumbling about how his father never loved him. Never knew the extent of that statement, however,” Natasha spoke. 

“Well, let’s just watch the rest. Maybe this was a one-time thing and Tony’s childhood isn’t so bleak from there,” Clint said as he grabbed a labeled tape to put into the tape-player, and immediately realized how ironic his statement was. 

* * *

_“Dear mister Howard Stark, hi,” a man in a ski mask said. His face being too close to the camera to reveal anything else into frame. “Now I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why is my son still not back to me after I’ve sent out a very dangerous threat?’ Well, mister Stark, it’s because I’m not dumb. I still want my money. But I'm nice. You still got a day left,” the man said as he stepped away from the camera and walked over to a kid whose cheeks stained with blood strapped to a chair with tape on his mouth: Tony._

_The man grabbed a fistful of Tony’s hair with one hand, and a gun with the other. A frantic-eyed Tony was starting to hyperventilate as he caught the sight of the gun nearing his head. “One day, Howard, or your precious son’s brain will be scrambled on the floor for the dogs to eat.” Tony started sobbing and shaking violently as the gun was pressed to his temple. The sadistic kidnapper laughed in delight before he lowered the gun and retreated to his spot by the camera._

_“Clock’s ticking, and the kid’s cries are getting louder. Spare him the trouble, yeah?” The man smiled. “One day. Half a million dollars. Goodbye.”_

The recording ended, and the Avengers felt their heart tighten. They had an idea of Tony’s history of kidnappings, but they didn’t know it started from such a young age. It made sense, however. He was the son of a rich businessman, and Natasha should have known this, but she didn’t, and she felt her heart clench in shame. 

“This is horrible,” Bruce said as he hugged his knees to his chest. “He was so scared. He looked like he was having a panic attack. Gosh, he was four. He was only four.” 

“Calm down, friend,” Thor whispered as he knelt on the floor to sit by the raging scientist. “At least we know that man failed in his doings. Tony is safe now.” 

“So is that what all the labeled tapes are? They’re video tapes from kidnappers sending their message to Howard?” Steve finally spoke. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Clint said as he grabbed at a labeled tape but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a tape labeled with just a smiley face. “Yo, look. This one’s labeled differently. We’ll play that one.” 

* * *

_“Jarvis. Jarvis,” Tony whisper-yelled in a dark room. “Jarvis! You here?”_

_“For you, sir, always,” a British accent muttered eloquently and_ wait—that sounded familiar to the team. 

_“Okay, good. Do you know what’s taking her so long?”_

_“I don’t think so. No worries, Tony. She’ll be here on time.”_

_“Right. Do you think she’ll like the gift? I’m kinda worried it’ll bother her because, y’know, she loved him so much and I just don’t wanna upset her. Especially not today. I mean, it’s her first time back in America in almost a year and—” a doorbell. “Shh! She’s here!”_

_“Tony,” Jarvis spoke softly._

_“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry, I left a note outside the door for her to open the door and—shh! She's coming in!”_

_“Anthony? Jarvis? Howard told me you both would be here alone, and frankly if this is—”_

Steve's heart fluttered as he recognized the voice he was hearing through the big screen. How come Tony never told him he knew her? 

_“Alright, at the count of three! One, two, SURPRISE!” The lights turned on to reveal the face of a surprised Peggy Carter stood in the middle of the living room, Tony and the slender figure of a man—Jarvis—emerging from behind the grand couch that Natasha was currently sprawled over._

_There was a cake on the golden table by the entrance of the mansion, and it seemed like the camera was propped on the fireplace to capture everything in frame._

_“Oh, goodness!” Peggy’s cheery voice chimed in surprise. “Awh, how I missed both of you so much! Look at you, Anthony! All grown up now!”_

_“Uh-huh! I’m six! A man!” Tony said as he jumped over the couch and rushed to hug the British woman, who crouched to the child’s level of height to embrace him and ruffle his hair. “I missed you so much, Aunt Peggy. Never leave America ever again!” Tony’s voice muffled against Peggy’s shoulder._

_“Oh, my little man. I’m here to stay in America for a long, long time!” She said cheerfully with a wide smile on her face that faltered upon pulling away and getting a closer look to the boy’s face. Jarvis could be seen from behind Tony giving her some sort of hand gesture for her to not ask the kid about it, to which she nodded once and set her eyes once more on the tiny brunet. Jarvis coughed and said, “Tony, why don’t you show Aunt Peggy the gift you worked so hard to make for her?”_

_“Oh, yeah! I made you something special, Aunt Peggy! I hope you like it! I worked on it for the whole week! And Sir kept giving me a hard time, but I still went through with it and—”_

_“Who’s this 'Sir', Anthony?” Peggy asked as she brushed a hair away from the brunet’s face._

_“Dad! I mean Howard. He doesn’t like the name Dad and prefers Sir instead. Like me! I prefer Tony. You should call me Tony!” Tony explained before his eyes widened in realization that he’s been talking too much. “I’m sorry! I talk too much. I’ll go get you your gift! Stay right here!”_

_Peggy stood up again as she spoke to Jarvis, “When I read the paper magazines say that Howard refuses to pay ransoms for kidnappers to return his very own kid back to him, I thought perhaps the man has strategy, but from your calls about the many times you’ve gotten the kid back yourself, it became very evident that Howard simply doesn’t care about the child. But this? The kid calling his own father ‘Sir’? The fresh bruises on his face? What’s going on, Jarvis?”_

_Jarvis sighed. “Howard’s been drinking. And before you tell me anything, I try to protect him. You know I love the kid like my very own. My number one priority is protecting him and looking after him, but one wrong move and Howard won’t hesitate to fire me. Then what? Then who looks after the kid as much as I do?”_

_Peggy cursed under her breath in frustration. “The kid is not safe here,” she looked around the mansion as if inspecting threat. “Howard has not been the same man I knew since—”_

_Peggy cut her sentence off as soon as tiny footsteps were heard. Tony appeared into frame again as he shyly approached the woman smiling kindly at him. “It’s okay if you decide you don’t like it. I’ll come up with something else, just let me know,” he muttered as he handed her a small red box._

_“Why, I’m sure it’s lovely. Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart.” She opened the red box as Tony ran to stand behind Jarvis’ legs, as if to shield himself from her reaction. Peggy exchanged a look with Jarvis but didn’t say anything as she opened her gift._

_“Oh, it’s beautiful! I see the rumors about you being a genius are true. I don’t think anyone has noticed my love for wrist watches before,” she said, adoration lacing her voice as she wore the accessory and showed it off. “Thank you, An—Tony. It's precious.”_

_Tony hesitantly came from behind the man’s legs. “It... It’s not just a watch. I added something to it.” He approached her again and she knelt once more for the genius to do his thing. “If you press the tiny button on here, a hologram pops up. You do it.” The British agent nodded as she followed the child’s instructions and gasped as a hologram came into view right in front of her eyes of Steve Rogers._

_“There! Now wherever you go, Captain America will be right there with you, protecting you,” Tony smiled as he looked at the hologram figure. His smile faltered as he noticed Peggy’s long silence. “Auntie?”_

_“Tony, it’s...” a single tear rolled down her cheek, “It’s beautiful. This is the best gift I have ever received. You’re a marvel, Tony Stark. You hear that? A marvel.” She turned the hologram off and wiped the tear away as she carried the six-year-old to sit on the couch instead of the hard floor. He was smiling widely. “Told you she would like it,” Jarvis said fondly._

_“Like it? I absolutely love it!” she beamed. “Tony, sweetheart. You have such a big heart.” She dug her finger on the center of his chest and chuckled when the child giggled._

_“I’m happy you like it. I was so worried about the wires because Sir usually notices when those are missing, but I managed to get ones from one of the Stark Industries employees who came over for a business meeting and—cake!” Peggy giggled as the kid’s train of thought got interrupted upon Jarvis’ coming into frame holding a cake in hand._

_“This is the best day of my li—” Tony’s squealed before the tape got cut._

* * *

“He knew Peggy,” Steve said, pointing out the obvious. “Why didn’t he tell me?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. But are we just ignore the fact that Tony named the AI in the tower after his butler?” Clint said. 

“Yeah, it’s adorable. That was adorable,” Bruce said with a smile. Natasha nodded in agreement and asked, “Are there more tapes like that?” 

“We must watch all of them tonight and find out,” Thor said as he picked a tape. He was going through the box to look for an unlabeled tape. He took out the ones that were labeled to avoid rummaging too much and possibly ruining the delicate objects. 

“Jesus,” Steve muttered. “If all of these amount to the times that he has been kidnapped, I will burn the house down.” 

“Simmer down, Captain,” Natasha tried to comfort him, knowing full well that Steve had such a soft spot for the billionaire. “Alright. I have found an unlabeled tape. Let’s watch.” 

* * *

Howard’s lab came into view. He set the camera up and clapped his hands together.

_“I’m gonna be fixing the trigger on this SI pistol. This video is made for the purpose of avoiding future complications and error.”_

_He reached for a phone before he sat down on the stool by the worktable. “Jarvis, tell Tony to come down to the—I don’t give a shit if he’s sleeping. Wake him up and tell him to get down here right now.” A minute later, a sleepy Tony came into view wearing yet another Captain America shirt with the shield drawn right in the center of his chest, where the arc reactor would soon be. “You needed me here, sir?”_

_“Yes, sleeping princess. Jesus, boy. There’s no time for sleep, only work!”_

_“Yes, sir. M’sorry.”_

_“Listen carefully because I'm not gonna fucking repeat myself. What I have here is a pistol. The trigger’s jammed. There’s been a manufacturing error in almost all the pistols I have in the box by the door. So look and listen carefully because you’re gonna be fixing them.”_

_Tony’s eyes widened slightly, but then he stood straighter and said, “Yes, sir.”_

_Tony was looking on his father use the smoldering iron and muttering a bunch of words and curses under his breath as he explained things._

_“Now, hold this for a minute,” Howard mindlessly ordered as he shoved the smoldering iron against his son’s chest, who flinched at the sudden movement and heat._

_“It’s hot, sir. It’s gonna burn me if I hold it.”_

_“Do I look like I care? Hold it.”_

_The team watched in horror as the six-years-old child suppressed a wince and held onto the sizzling iron. Realization dawned on them that this is probably the root of Tony’s “I don’t like being handed things” habit._

_“Sir,” Tony whined. “My hand...”_

_“God, quit nagging, I'm almost done.”_

_Tony nodded to himself as his other hand worked around holding the iron from its handle, only to realize that that’s just as burning hot as the iron itself, and he moaned in misery as he realized his father didn’t bother ensuring that he wears protective gloves for this._

_Howard’s hand mindlessly grabbed at the handle of the smoldering iron and snatched it out of his son’s hand, which resulted in Tony letting out an ear-piercing scream when his skin came off smoothly with the iron. He clutched at his hand as he dropped to the floor and sobbed, which Howard’s face immediately displayed annoyance by._

_“God, shut up! Quit fucking crying!” Howard yelled, but Tony was too consumed in pain to do by Howard’s orders. The man grabbed something off his desk and ordered his son to hold it. “Hold this.”_

_“I don’t want to. It hurts so—”_

_“I said hold it. With both hands.”_

_Tony’s throat bobbed in a gulp and hiccuped on his sobs. The sobs immediately turned into louder screams as soon as he was handed a cylinder metal object._

_“It’s too cold! It hurts! It's making it worse!” Tony wailed as his father went on to work as if no one else was in the room. “God, please! Please, dad! It—”_

_A hard kick landed on the boy’s ribs, and the Avengers could make out the sound of a bone breaking under the impact. Tony’s screams were raw and hoarse as he clutched at his hand and hunched in on himself on the floor._

_“Never. Fucking. Call me. Dad,” Howard said through gritted teeth. He went back to working on the pistol before he got too tired of the screams and wails. He grabbed the phone yet again and called in Jarvis._

_A minute later, Jarvis appeared. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Tony’s state._

_“Jarvis,” Tony moaned helplessly. “Please. Hurts.”_

_Jarvis’ eyes could be seen gloss over as his face grew more and more concerned with every sob let out of the boy’s mouth. He knelt to carry the boy over his shoulder, but immediately realized his mistake as the young figure screamed again in his arms._

_“Might have broken his ribs or something,” Howard muttered casually. Jarvis’ eyes widened in shock as he stared at the working man in front of him. His mouth opened to say something, but then looked over at the boy in his arms and his mouth twisted in a tight grimace._

_“Shh, it’s alright. I got you. I'll take care of it,” Jarvis comforted the boy as he carried him bridal style._

_“Take that Captain America shirt off him. Steve would be fucking ashamed if he knew I had a fucking weak wimp for a son. He doesn’t deserve to have not even the drawing of the shield on his chest. What a mockery of such great symbol!” Howard spat as Jarvis shot a glare at the back of the man’s head before exiting the room._

_The rest of the tape consisted of the man working until he deemed his work a success._

* * *

Steve could feel his stomach rolling uncomfortably at Howard’s words. Is that what he always told Tony? That Captain America would be ashamed of him? If so, no wonder why Tony’s manners upon meeting the Captain for the first time held nothing but resentment. 

Steve looked around him as the voices of his teammates blurred out. He grew fond of the billionaire genius, and watching such scenes unfold right in front of his eyes hurt like a bitch as he is unable to jump into the screen and rescue the boy from this—to hold him and tell him he would never be ashamed of him. He wanted nothing but to tell him to not grow up into the man he knows today: the man who hides behind a paparazzi smile and arrogant comments that always held the hidden remark of _you can’t hurt me if I hurt you first._

He has seen Tony for what he truly is. Of course, it wasn’t a deliberate act of Tony’s, Steve just happened to catch glimpses of it here and there. He caught the many internal battles Tony had as he held on tight to a bottle of scotch during sleepless nights in the kitchen, before emptying the glass into the sink and resorting for coffee instead. He caught the man on phone calls with orphanages promising to deliver money, toys, and better security systems every month. He caught the man teetering on the edge of panic and terror whenever the room got too hot ( _like the desert, like the cave, like Afghanistan,_ Steve concluded), but noticed how much warmer the tower got on Steve’s bad days where he would panic in his room over the memories of the cold sea, and a smiling Tony would offer him a warm cup of coffee upon seeing him in the communal kitchen with a shaking hand that Steve has strained his eyes to notice, and then disappearing off to his lab without waiting to hear the words “Thank you.” 

However, the one that seemed to hurt the most was how with every mention of Howard that Steve has made, Tony would simply nod and feign a casual tone. Steve has compared Tony to Howard, has rambled on with story after story of his time with the man, and— _fuck_ —he has even once yelled at Tony that he could never amount to be half as great as his deceased father. 

Before Steve could lament on his thoughts, another tape started. 

* * *

_“Good god. Is this thing off? You made sure you recorded everything? Kinda tired of being Santa for the day,” Howard said casually. He was sat in the room Steve recognized as the study room. A small Christmas tree standing behind him._

_“Uh, yeah! But isn’t Obadiah supposed to be involved in this? You know, the man co-running SI wishing Americans a merry Christmas will sound quite endearing” a voice the team didn’t recognize said._

_“No, Daniel,” Peggy yelled from across the room. “Obadiah thinks it would be too over the top. He should be here soon if you wanna change his mind.”_

_“What’s taking him so long, anyway?”_

_“He’s probably getting his hands dirty with the Russians we met last week. Obi never wastes the chance to fill up his full pockets. You should know that, Daniel,” Howard answered. “Give that man a bank and he’ll rob the world, I tell you. Anyway, where’s Jarvis?”_

_“He went to pick Tony up from the airport, darling,” a blond woman with an accent answered. Tony’s mother, the team concluded._

_“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He’s ten! He can make his way here on his own perfectly fine!”_

_“Really, Howard? You out of everyone should know your son is constantly followed around by kidnappers. The least you could do is ensure his safety,” Peggy said harshly._

_A sigh escaped the blond woman’s lips, “He’s been kidnapped nine times just in the past two months. I always tell Howard it’s bound to give us a bad name. What kind of parents just allow for their son to get kidnapped so often?”_

_“Allow?! Maria, give me a break,” Howard scoffed. “It’s not like we tell those bastards to kidnap him. He just happens to—”_

_“Happens to what, Howard? He’s a kid! He’s not this grown man you make him out to be. He’s only ten!” Peggy snapped. “You are a powerful man, Howard. If you wanted to keep your son safe, you would. So, yes. You’re allowing this.”_

_“Alright, everybody calm down. It’s almost Christmas,” the man behind the camera, Daniel, said._

_An awkward silence loomed over the people in frame. The only sound that could be heard was ice clinking around the glass cup of alcohol Howard was drinking._

_A few seconds later, a loud, bashful man could be heard._

_“Look who’s back in the house! Party don’t start till I walk in!”_

_“Ah, Obi! My man,” Howard smiled widely as Obadiah came into frame and embraced each other._

_A few minutes later, Jarvis followed in the room to greet everybody and let them know that Tony’s back. Peggy nodded at the man in acknowledgement and said, “That’s good. Where is he now?”_

_“He went straight to his room, per Sir’s request,” Jarvis said from across the hall before appearing into frame._

_“Howard! It's the day before Christmas! Tell him to get down here and celebrate with us. For fuck’s sake, Howard. He just came back from boarding school!”_

_“Oh, Peggy. Howard’s always like that. And Anthony seems to enjoy locking himself up in that room, anyway,” Maria said calmly. “But I’ve been hearing that he has no friends at that school. All the kids are older than him and he’s become such an easy target for them. The teachers told me so themselves via telegrams.”_

_“All the kids are older? How?” Daniel asked._

_“Tony’s a gifted kid—a genius. He’s in a high school now. So basically, he’s a ten-year-old surrounded by a bunch of teenagers. And it probably doesn’t help that he’s a Stark,” Peggy explained._

_“He doesn’t need friends,” Howard stated matter-of-factly. “And no son of mine is some victim of bullying. He’s probably being a sissy boy and is rightfully being judged for it.”_

_“Come on, big guy. Cut the little boy some slack. He’s not as bad as you make him out to be,” Obi said as he poured himself a drink. “He’s gonna take over one day, y’know? You just wait and see. Kid’s already building robots and what not. He’s gonna be the future of SI, mark my words.”_

_“What a bleak future it seems,” Howard sighed, and Peggy and Jarvis shot him a glare._

_“Jarvis, call Tony in. I wanna see him,” Peggy said assertively. When Howard didn’t comment, Jarvis went on his merry way to Tony’s room. A few minutes later, a short, skinny figure came into frame._

_“H-Hello,” Tony stuttered._

_“Ah, here he is! My favorite Stark! No offense to you, Maria,” Peggy teased as she crouched in front of the boy to hug him, who immediately flinched away before realizing his mistake and accepting the hug hesitantly. Peggy’s face crumbled in sadness. She pulled away and smiled tightly as she guided the boy to sit next to her on the couch._

_“It’s good to have you back, sweetheart,” Maria said mindlessly as she picked at her nails. Tony did not reply._

_“I heard a lot about you, young man!” Daniel started._

_“Everybody always hears a lot about me,” Tony mumbled, which earned him a glare from Howard._

_“Yeah, well, being a genius gets people speaking,” Daniel carried on with the fond tone despite Howard shooting daggers through the camera lens. “Word has it you build robots!”_

_“Oh, yeah! I carried his suitcase on my way in here and let me tell you, that thing’s heavy! I asked if he has a body in there, and he casually answers that he has only an arm in there. When I tell you I panicked and had to check for myself only to see some robotic arm...” Obi chuckled. “Kid got me good.”_

_“A robotic arm? That you built?” Peggy’s jaw dropped._

_“Yeah. It doesn’t work. At least not anymore,” Tony answered._

_“Why not?”_

_Tony looked over to his father, who was still glaring at him. “Never mind,” he said._

_“But I wanna know. What happened?”_

_Jarvis sat by the boy’s side and held on his shoulder protectively and encouragingly._

_“Some guy from my school broke it. Now it doesn’t work.”_

_Howard laughed, and Tony’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I keep telling you to quit with this funny business. To learn a thing or two about how our business works, but you refuse to listen. All you talk about are the damn useless bots.”_

_“And all you talk about Steve Rogers and weapons. Both being very useless to me. I guess we’re even,” Tony muttered more confidently, which Peggy smiled at as Jarvis tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder, his face clad in a worried look for what may go down._

_Howard’s nostrils flared as he put his drink down and rose off his seat. Obi, Peggy, and Jarvis stood right in front of the man to block him from getting to his son. Maria stood by Howard’s side as her hands tried pulling at his shoulder. “Hey, man. Cool off. Kid didn’t mean it,” Obi said.”_

_“I did mean it,” Tony said casually._

_“You hear that? You fucking hear that?! He needs a fucking spanking!” Howard seethed as he tried to reach for the boy only to be blocked by another figure: Daniel._

_“Howard if you dare touch the boy, I will fucking tase you. Don’t test me!” Peggy yelled._

_Howard ignored her as he kept trying to push past the crowd to get to the kid who was sitting unbothered on the couch. His legs dangling off the edge and his eyes weary and heavy._

_“Don’t you fucking dare bring up Steve’s name ever fucking again! Do you hear me?”_

_“Why? Is it because it reminds you that you’ve failed to find him?”_

_“Anthony!” Peggy yelled, which Tony’s eyes softened at, and he sighed before running off to his room._

_“Yeah, that’s right! Run you fucking coward. I’ll deal with you later.”_

_“Howard, this is your own making! You've led him to this act of rebellion and resentment of you and of Steve!” Peggy pointed out as she stepped back._

_“Sir, your reaction was a bit much. Tony’s been having a rough time over at his school, and today was simply not his day. But I can assure you he won’t behave like that again,” Jarvis said._

_“I don’t give a shit. I’ll deal with him later.”_

_“Come on, Howdy. Don’t sit here and act like the kid committed a crime. He was just in a bad mood, understandable,” Obi patted his friend’s back before handing him a drink. “You need to win the little guy over. He’s got a legacy he’s gonna carry over his shoulder whenever you and Maria decide to leave us off to the Bahamas or something.”_

_“Besides, baby, you need to consider how bad our image is gonna be if—”_

_“Image? Image?!” Peggy said in incredulous disgust. “Is that all you care about, Maria?”_

_“Peggy, we are constantly under a microscope. The kid won’t appreciate growing up into whatever the headlines make of us.”_

_An awkward silence came over the bunch once again, and Peggy looked around the mansion as if examining the place for the first time. Steve knew that look. It was when she anticipated something going off road. She asked in almost a whisper, “Please don’t do anything to him when we leave. Please.”_

_“You make it seem like I’m such a monster,” Howard scoffed. “Relax. I’m his father. I’ll sit him down for a proper talk.”_

_“You promise?”_

_Howard poured another drink. “Yeah, yeah.”_

_She looked over to Maria, who was twirling her hair around her finger. She looked over to Jarvis, whose face was painted in worry and concern. She looked over at Obadiah, who looked deep in thought with a glass cup in his hand. She looked over to Daniel, and her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened. “I think I’m gonna leave now. It’s been... quite an evening. I’ll be back tomorrow to give Tony his Christmas present.”_

_“Thank you, darling. I guess I’ll leave too now. I have a flight to catch. My friends and I are going shopping in London,” Maria beamed. “Might even pay your sister a visit. I miss her dearly.”_

_“You tell her I miss her too,” Peggy smiled as they hugged. “Daniel? Will you drive me home, please?”_

_“Uh, yeah. Sure. Well, goodbye everyone. See you soon. Jarvis, tell Tony it was an honor to finally meet him.” Jarvis nodded and excused himself to deliver the message._

_That left Howard and Obadiah alone discussing politics and business. They seemed to agree on almost everything, and it unsettled the team how genuine Obadiah seemed, especially with everything they know he did to Tony a decade and a few years later. It was a weird thing to hear him defend and speak of Tony so highly, but one thing Natasha and Steve did notice is that the bald man had only one drink, while he was shoving one drink after the other towards Howard, all while speaking about Tony._

_“I just think, yeah the kid needs discipline, but he’s pretty harmless. Vulnerable, even. Which, Jesus, that’s gonna take a while to train for taking over a legacy, but he can get there. You can teach him.”_

_“I’m not dying anytime soon until I make sure the company’s in good hands. And if his hands aren’t any good, I’ll break them before I go to my grave,” Howard slurred. “Quit talking about a legacy so much. You make it seem like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”_

_“I’m just thinking with you out loud. For the benefit of Stark Industries. Gotta think of everything. It’s how we businessmen survive. At least those of us who aren’t Stark men,” Obadiah chuckled. “We’re not made of iron.”_

_“Neither is he.”_

_“Who, the kid? Come on. He’ll grow up into strong iron. Iron that won’t rust. Mark my words, I’m never wrong.”_

_A solid minute passed before Obadiah got on his feet and reminded Howard of the Christmas gala, with the promise of seeing him there as he made his way out of the mansion. Jarvis came into the room after a while, asking Howard if he needed anything before he could go to sleep. “Yeah, call Tony down here.”_

_“Sir, aren’t you—”_

_“I said bring him here.”_

_Jarvis sighed in defeat. “Whatever you want, Sir.”_

_Tony came into view a few minutes later, his face tired and his curls going in every direction._

_“You embarrassed me tonight. What the fuck was that all about?” Howard sneered._

_“I didn’t say anything wrong.”_

_Howard got off his seat, stumbling on his own feet as he made his way to Tony who was stood across the room. Tony visibly shook as he saw his father lock the door of the room, and he shrieked back in fear as he anticipated a slap across the face. It never came. Instead, a fistful of his hair was grabbed painfully. Tony whimpered._

_“Nothing you ever say is good. In fact, you shouldn’t say anything at all,” Howard whispered, but the camera caught it clearly. “Do you understand? Or has anyone lied to you recently and told you otherwise? I mean, I understand that being called a genius has probably boosted your ego beyond belief, but you should be enough of a genius to feel dumb for even thinking you could as much as talk back to me.”_

_Tony’s glossy eyes never broke contact as he shook and nodded frantically. Tony knew what was about to come to him was going to be worse than anything he has ever been through when it came down to this, and his tears rolled down his cheeks._

_Howard smiled. “You will break,” he whispered as his thumb gently wiped a tear off the kid’s face. A sob broke out of Tony’s mouth._

_“I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean t-to bring u-up Stev—”_

_“Shhh, don’t talk,” Howard cooed. “Don’t say anything. I like hearing you cry.”_

Something foul and absolutely twisted floated in the air as the Avengers watched in horror. Steve leaned forward in his seat as his mind begged for whatever that was about to happen to not happen. The look on Tony’s face was beyond terror and panic. Tony was petrified and small—so, so small.

_Suddenly, Howard dragged the kid by the hair as Tony sobbed and stumbled on the floor with a soft thud, only to still be dragged by his brown curls. Howard sat on a chair that’s back faced the camera, but it was angled in a way that revealed enough of what was going on._

_Tony was on his knees, sobbing and shaking in front of his father, who was too busy unbuckling his belt. “Shh, I’ll give you something to keep you shushed. Keep you occupied. You talk too much, y’know? About time you quiet down.”_

_Tony’s face was confused, but still wore tears. “What are you doi—”_

“Oh god,” Bruce whispered. “Turn it off! I can’t watch this!” He bolted out of the room as his voice laced with that of the Hulk’s as his hands formed shaking fists. The team was too focused on the scene on screen, and too horrified, to react to anything else. 

_“Open your mouth, Anthony.”_

_“Sir, please, I—”_

_A slap._

_“No. Talking. Your mouth. Is needed. For something. Else,” Howard said through gritted teeth, each word extenuated with a slap on the little boy’s face._

_Tony sobbed loudly as he opened his trembling mouth. Thankfully, the armchair of the seat covered something the Avengers did not want to see, but they figured it doesn’t matter whether they were able to see it or not when they could see Tony’s young face twisted in pain and panic, his father’s hazy and pleased._

_He grabbed fistfuls of Tony’s hair and shoved himself hard and fast from the get-go, which earned a pained groan from Tony and choked sobs._

_“Oh, god, why haven’t I done this earlier? This might just be the only thing you’re good for. The only thing you’re truly a genius for,” Howard moaned as he forced Tony’s head on him at a merciless speed. They could see Tony panicking and pushing against the man to escape, only to be smacked across the head and held in place with one hand gripping his hair in a tight grip, the other holding onto both hands on his lap. “If you try to bite, I’ll break both of your arms.”_

_Tony’s scream came out muffled. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as his eyes were tightly shut._

_“Gosh, isn’t everything so good between us when you’re like this?” He released his grip on the boy’s hair, who immediately gulped for air as a trail of drool hung from his red, plump lips, and choked on air. “Right. Put your mouth on me, come on,” Tony flinched violently, but obeyed. “Good. Now move your head up and down. Oh, fuck yes! Just like that. Good god, you’re filthy. Carrying a legacy my ass, you’ll probably sell yourself out as a whore. Hmm? You wanna be a whore when you grow up?” Howard fake cooed as Tony sobbed. “Go down more. Deeper. Shove it inside of you—ah! Good! So, so good.”_

_Tony’s mind was screaming at him to fight, to bite, to scream for Jarvis, but a sane part of his brain demanded that he obeys and gets this torture over with. He didn’t understand what was happening, or what was his father doing to him, but he figured that this is the most pleased his father has ever been with him, and as much as he wanted more of the praise his father was pouring on him, he also wanted it to end. It felt wrong and torturous, and he wished he could get those words said to him in any other way._

_“So good, so talented with this. Take it off your mouth. Now put your tongue out. Lick just the tip. Your hand—use it. Wrap it around and go up and down—oh yes, yes, yes,” Howard instructed. “Gosh, I like you like this. So perfect.”_

_Tony whined as the praise made his heart ache. Was this what it took to be praised and loved? It must be, or else, how come he has never felt this loved and this praised ever? His attention starved brain was finally getting what it needed, so why does it feel wrong?_

_It’s because I’m wrong, Tony thought._

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck, open your mouth wide again,” Howard grunted as he shoved himself deep inside his son’s mouth. Tony’s breath was constricted, and his nose hit the button of his father’s pants as he felt a warm liquid run down the walls of his esophagus. His brain panicked, and his hands tried to push against the man’s thighs, but his head was held tightly in place._

_“So perfect, oh my fucking god. So good. Good job, Tony. Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you.” Tony’s body went slack as his arms fell to his sides—overwhelmed at the praise that his mind held onto for dear life. He kept replaying the words in his mind._

_So good. Good job, Tony. Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you._

_So good. Good job, Tony. Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you._

_So good. Good job, Tony. Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you._

_Howard pulled out with a grunt, and wiped away the trail of drool left behind as he tucked himself in. He came out of his high as he threw a napkin at Tony’s face. “Here. Wipe your face clean. And uh, don’t tell anyone about this. If you do, I'll fucking kill whoever you tell.”_

_But Tony did not come out of the high he was riding and was not able to register a word. His mouth tasted weird, and his mind was able to register that he did not like whatever his mouth tasted like, but he didn’t care. His eyes were hazy as he panted for breath. Despite himself, his body was panicking, as if it understood what his mind failed to comprehend and revolted against it._

_Howard cursed under his breath and unlocked the door, only to be met with Jarvis. The British man immediately rushed to the little boy still kneeling in front of the chair. He held onto the boy’s face and inspected it frantically. “Tony,” his voice cracked in worry. “What happened? What’s wrong?”_

_The boy smiled weakly as his body grew weaker and weaker. Right before the boy lost consciousness against his butler’s chest, and right before the tape got cut, Tony’s hoarse voice was heard saying, “Steve Rogers would be so—”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that this is a dark fic. If you thought the first chapter was heavy, boy oh boy are you in it for a ride. It gets a lot heavier from there... Please heed the tags and warnings and stay safe!

Steve heaved over the sink as he washed away what his body couldn’t stomach in. He tried to stop the heaving, only to realize that he has been crying uncontrollably since he walked into the grand bathroom. 

It was luxurious and immaculate, yet Steve grew to hate every inch and every corner of this place. He wanted to burn it down, and he wanted to ask Tony why he didn’t tell them. Why hadn’t he told Steve that Howard was not the man he thought he was? Why had he not spared the both of them the awkward conversations about the man? It’s not like— 

_Oh._

Steve knows why, and he doubles over the floor as he cries furiously in anger and shame and longing. He longs for the genius brunet who has been the ever-present warmth for him. Who has guided and maneuvered him through the future with ease. Who always made him giggle and blush to himself with snarky, sarcastic comments—though Steve refuses to admit he likes them. Who has programmed JARVIS to protect him just as much as it protects its creator. And Steve knows exactly why Tony hasn’t told him. 

_Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you._

He wails with wild abandon. He wants to see Tony again. He wants to get out of this place. To hell with safety. He has never felt as safe as when he’s around the genius. He wants to tell him this. He wants to tell him so many things. He wants to tell him that he— 

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “Steve, Tony’s on his way back here. Be out soon.” 

He pulls it together and furiously wipes away his tears to exit the bathroom. He makes it to the living room, and he can see the tension hop merrily around. Natasha is putting the tapes back into the box in the exact order they have pulled them out of, and the grimace and furrowed brows are enough to tell what’s going on in her head. Clint is sat cross legged on the floor, his eyes focused on nothing in particular, but there’s anger bubbling underneath. Thor’s face is as neutral as ever, but his hands emit glowing blue sparks of lightning, and Steve almost gasps at the sight. Then there’s Bruce, who’s pacing around the room in an attempt of keeping the Hulk at bay, who’s voice laced with the Doctor’s to exclaim “Tony hurt!” whenever Bruce lost his grip on the green, blinding rage. 

They had to keep it together for Tony, whose car was pulling into the driveway. Natasha hurriedly carried the box of tapes to the study room, and Clint turned the TV on to some random channel and feigned normalcy. Thor shoved his hands under his thighs and sighed heavily. Bruce tried to sit still, but his legs were shaking. Natasha’s face was as neutral as ever, but Steve saw the slight crease of a frown by her lip. 

And then there was Steve; he stood in the middle of the living room. His eyes shifting from the door Tony would enter from any minute now to his teammates. His blue eyes were dark, his skin itched with anticipation to hold the genius, and his body was trying not to cave in on itself in pain. 

“Gosh, Tony. Help me here,” a voice that grew in volume with every step it took towards the door said. Steve concluded that it must be Happy: Tony’s driver. Steve went to open the door, and found a drunk Tony leaning heavily on Happy. “Oh god,” Steve muttered as he reached to hold onto Tony. “Thank you, Happy. I’ll take care of him from here.” 

“Yeah, good. I’m keeping his car here. I’ll park it in the garage for him. SHEILD agents are gonna pick me up, if he asks about it,” Happy said with a smile and waved goodbye. 

Steve held on to the shorter man reeking of alcohol. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were half-lidded in a drunken haze. He kept moaning miserably as he tripped over his feet but giggled as soon as Steve swept him off the floor bridal style and sat him on his lap on the couch. The rest of the team held their breath as they watched the man giggle to himself in the Captain’s lap. 

“M’sorry, Captain,” Tony slurred. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just rest now.” 

“You’re warm,” Tony slurred yet again as Steve leaned over to take the drunk man’s shoes off for him. Tony giggled as he wiggled his socked feet and nuzzled his head against Steve’s chest. Steve couldn’t help but giggle too. It was contagious. 

“Sleep. Alright?” 

“Don’t—hmmph. Don’t leeaaaave,” Tony whined and held tightly on to Steve’s blue shirt. “T’scared here.” 

“What was that, Tony? Your voice is muffled.” 

“Steve, I think—” Natasha started before Tony pulled out of Steve’s chest. His head rested against the strong arm behind it that was cradling him, and a dopey smile came across his face as he looked up at the Captain. Steve’s heart clenched at the sight. His eyes were glossy, his lips were red and trembling slightly, and a drunken blush decorated his cheeks and nose. 

“You’re here,” his hand, lazy and moving slowly towards the blonde's face, cradled Steve’s cheek. “You’re here” 

“Of course, I’m here,” Steve’s hand covered the hand on his cheek, and he resisted the urge to cry right there and then. 

“Tony,” Natasha’s voice was stern enough to gain the drunk man’s attention, but soft enough to not scare him off. “What drugs are you on?” Tony giggled in response. 

“Tony. You’ve been clean for almost a year now. You’ve been sober for almost a year.” 

“Don’t matter,” Tony turned his head around to look at Steve again. “He’s here.” 

_“Tony Stark!”_ he heard his name called out enthusiastically from the TV. Clint cursed under his breath as he realized that out of all channels, he stopped on a celebrity gossip centered one. 

_“Yo, yo, yo! Word has it Tony’s back to the playboy life,” a man holding a Starbucks cup and leaning over a chair said smugly._

_“Whaaaat? I mean, are we shocked?” a woman said with a chuckle. “He’s been labelled the Avengers’ whore for a while now on the internet.”_

_“Well, it sure don’t help clear those accusations up when you empty your tower, a bunch of SHIELD agents show up, and you walk out of the tower with your clothes crumbled, hair be going crazy, and you’re drugged and drunk out of your mind,” a guy wearing a strange beard said as he walked into the room with papers. “Guy could’ve been having an orgy for all we know.”_

_“No wonder why SI is doing so well. Has been so ever since Tony took over, anyway. Been a real slut since way back,” Starbucks cup guy laughed too hard as if he said something funny. “Fucked his way to the top.”_

A few still pictures of Tony from a few hours ago showed up. His clothes were crumbled on him, and his eyes were bloodshot red. Tony giggled and pointed at the screen, “Looook! It meeee!” 

“Clint, turn it off,” Thor said. 

“Nooo,” Tony whined. “Wanna hear them.” 

_“I mean, ever since he became Iron Man, he’s been keeping it PG. But it does make sense that his sex drive would be as satisfied as ever with six superheroes around him at all times,” the woman said. “And it’s been, what? One month after the shenanigans in Afghanistan when they all moved in his tower? Three months in a cave must have had its effects, y’know? Guy down there must have not been happy.”_

_“We all saw the tapes of his captivity when they leaked. I mean, he clearly enjoyed the torture. Remember? He was constantly refusing to build shit and they always punished him. He’s pretty kinky, gotta say.”_

_“Well, seems like the internet’s in on it!” Another man cheered as he came into the room. “They’re speculating his kinks and what not. These people are geniuses!”_

_They all chuckled around before the Starbucks cup guy rounded things up. “Alright, what’cha guys think?” he said as he addressed the camera. “Is Tony Stark the Avengers’ whore? Is he even in the suit when they’re out there for battle, or is he too busy fucking and drinking to be a hero? Let us know by tagging us in your tweets and posts for a chance to be featured in next week’s episode!”_

The room was silent after that. All of them holding their breaths except for Tony, who was giggling lazily against Steve’s chest. Steve was incredibly worried and didn’t know what to do. Does he talk? Does he stay quiet? Does he hold the man tighter in his embrace and tell him that the world doesn’t deserve him? 

All his thoughts were thrown off when Tony slowly but surely started laughing. The laughing escalated to hysterical laughing. He held on to Steve’s shirt much tighter than before. He laughed and laughed, then suddenly, a sob broke out. Loud and clear against Steve’s chest. He sobbed loudly; the drugs and alcohol keeping his shame at bay as his mind threw up all its emotions onto Steve’s warm chest. His knuckles turned white as he held on tighter and tighter. 

“Oh, Tony,” Steve whispered before he held him in his arms and rocked them soothingly on the couch. Thor put his hand over Tony’s knees from where he was sat next to them, which Tony pulled them closer to his body upon the touch, but eventually relaxed as Thor rubbed his thumb soothingly over. 

Natasha’s eyes were glistening in sadness, but her face was painted in anger, which mirrored Bruce’s own face. Clint was silently crying and looked away as Tony now wailed and screamed in pain. 

Steve held on to the small body in his arms tighter as he listened to slurred, yet pained words that he couldn’t quite comprehend. His own eyes were stinging as the wails reached their peak, but Steve understood. This was years and years of emotions bubbling above the surface as they poured over like lava. This was a wild animal finally let out of its cage. This was a broken child finally let out of a broken, luxurious home, only to seek refuge in it when life gets shaky and unsafe. It’s almost as if Tony was doomed to never find a home—to never be safe. He was constantly moving from one unsafe place to another, and constantly hiding from one threat after the other. But they all seemed to chase after his tail until they bit it, and the worst part, he let it. He let himself come back to the mansion. He let Steve talk about Howard. He let Clint criticize him for calling his father by his first name and never “dad." He let Natasha not recommend him. He let Thor constantly underestimate him. He let Bruce constantly point out everything wrong with him. 

And Steve knew it. He knew Tony never showed a persona outside of flirty and arrogant. That was his safe space. This way, he looks bigger than life. He looks well put together. He’s in control of most situations. But he comes off so emotionless that it bothers Steve’s heart. Steve’s eyes shut tightly as he recalled an argument he had with Tony that ended with him yelling _“You’ve been around machines too damn much, you became one!”_

But that wasn’t Tony being a machine, that was Tony coping. That was Tony fighting for sanity. That was Tony fighting his serious case of PTSD, which he always read in the files, but never saw signs of, and therefore he completely ignored it, which is funny, isn’t it? He had the blue glow at the center of the man’s chest shine through to remind him. He had the blotches of paler skin littering Tony’s hands. He had the dark circles around Tony’s eyes. He had the harsh and ragged breaths heard taken with much difficulty often. He had the tight hugs and desperate look on Tony’s face whenever James Rhodes had to leave for months. He had the ghost of a sad smile playing on his lips whenever he asked _“JARVIS, you there?”_ to hear the response _“For you, sir, always.”_

“He’s having a panic attack,” Bruce pointed out. “His face is covered. Get him off you so he could breathe!” 

Except Tony held on tighter when Steve tried to do as Dr. Banner instructed. He could hear the man cry “no no no no no” the more he tried. He tried to get his face off his chest, and in an attempt to do so, he made the wrong move. He tried to tug on the billionaire’s hair, and he immediately realized his mistake as the brunet flinched violently and fell on his side on the floor. He hunched in on himself as he hugged his knees and his panic doubled over. 

All Tony could hear was static. All he could smell was expensive liquor. All he could feel were veiny hands and tugs on his hair. All he could taste is— 

“Oh my god, Tony!” Clint exclaimed as the panicking man let out an ear-piercing scream. Over and over again until his body grew visibly weaker and weaker. 

“This is not good for him. For his heart! We need to get him to stop,” Bruce’s voice cracked nervously. 

Thor crouched by Tony’s side and pried the panicking man’s hands away forcefully and demanded that Steve keeps holding his hands as Tony started to flail around. 

“I’m sorry, friend,” Thor whispered before his hand pressed on the arc reactor and blue sparks started emitting from it. “Thor, what did you do?” Steve asked as his eyes widened in terror when the genius inhaled a sharp gasp before his body turned slack and his eyes shut. 

“I saved him from himself.” 

* * *

“Guys, I promise you, I’m fine! I just did hard drugs and got drunk beyond repair. Plus, I had about a gallon of coffee that day. Not a really good combo, y’know? But I'm fine!” 

“You were almost a year clean off this shit. Quit bullshitting us, Tony. You were having a full-on panic attack. We had to put you out before you get a heart attack,” Natasha said sternly. 

Tony, who was still wearing last night’s clothes and sat up against the bed of one of the guest rooms he decided to reside in during his time in the mansion, was not feeling up for this. He woke up just five minutes ago after twelve hours of sleep with a terrible headache and a sore chest ( _thank you very much, Thor_ ) and he was already dreading calling Fury back after he has left him thirty missed calls. To be lectured and questioned by a group of concerned superheroes? He’s not a fan. 

“I was feeling spontaneous, sugar plum. Come on, Natalie. You’ve seen what I’m like when I get drunk. All sentimental and self-destructive, yeah? Your words, not mine. Now imagine drunk and on hard drugs. Actually, don’t imagine. That’s counterproductive. You’ve already seen that,” he sighed as the look on her face remained unshaken. Everybody else looked so... sad. _Why?_ he wondered. 

“You swore you wouldn’t do drugs or drink alcohol ever again.” 

“I also swore I wouldn’t join this super-secret boyband,” Tony said with a groan as his head throbbed. “Clearly, I’m regretting this so much already. Gosh, can I please have a painkiller?” 

“Tony, we injected you with one already. Taking a painkiller now wouldn’t be good for you,” Steve said fondly as he handed him water instead. 

“You need hydration and sleep. You can have a painkiller after eight hours,” Bruce said. 

Tony groaned yet again as he laid his head on the pillow and shut his eyes tightly in pain. He can’t sleep the day off, but the idea did sound quite attractive. His head felt incredibly heavy. “Just... Fury will be mad.” 

“I talked to Fury. He wanted to let you know that HYDRA tried to attack again. The SHEILD agents handled it well and JARVIS wasn’t hackable this time around. He actually disabled a lot of their weapons. But the place is filled with more bugs now. They’re gonna take longer to debug the tower,” Natasha explained. 

“How long?” 

The Russian agent sighed before she answered, “Probably five days.” 

And if Tony was crying silently under the blankets, nobody dared to comment. They just left off with the note that if he needed anything, they were here. They will always be here. 

* * *

Steve couldn’t resist wanting to know more. Although the more he knew, the sicker he got. He wanted to do this for Tony. It’s the least that he could do. 

Tony Stark is a young man—in his late twenties. And even if he wasn’t so young, nobody quite moves on from things like that. He remembers after one of their movie nights together, everybody shared their commentary on the family-friendly movie about a child’s relationship with his parents. Everybody spoke of childhood memories the movie reminded them of. Even Natasha, who Steve came to know didn’t become part of the Red Room training team until her teenage years. Looking back on that night, he realizes that Tony had stayed silent, and eventually excused himself to spend the rest of the night in his lab. It was the first and last time Tony has ever participated in their weekly movie nights.

Steve should have known better, but he didn’t. A few hours of uncomfortableness would never compare to what Tony went through and continues to go through. So he sat there in front of the TV as his fingers toyed with the tape in his hand, until he finally found it in him to play the rectangle box. 

“I wouldn’t let you go there alone,” a feminine voice said and sat carefully next to him. “I wanna help him too. We all do.” He looked around to see that the other members were emerging from their rooms to accompany their Captain. 

“What if he wakes up?” Steve wondered. “I thought you were watching over him.” 

“He took a sleeping pill. He’s gonna be asleep for the whole day. His head still hurts, and his body is craving more of the drugs he took. He's gonna sleep it off,” the redhead said as they played the tapes. 

They watched through the labelled tapes, which Steve was right about. They all came from kidnappers who demanded money. One of these tapes, however, displayed a teenage Tony knocking the kidnapper out and taking a hold of the camera to smirk and say _“See how I did that? Totally rad."_ Which ultimately made them smile. 

Then there were the labelled tapes, which consisted of Howard documenting experiments and occasionally calling Tony in just to end up beating him up or insulting him, yet another Christmas night filmed that ended with Howard punching Tony and demanding that he puts makeup on to cover the upcoming bruise to take a group picture for the media, and adorable and heartwarming tapes that Jarvis has filmed documenting the young boy’s birthdays. However, the older that he did get, the more broken he seemed. Jarvis tried oh so painfully hard to cheer the boy up, but it was evident that Tony only responded to not disappoint the British man. 

They came over a tape from _that night._ The bottom of the screen displayed the same date: The night before Christmas.

_“I’m filming this because something awfully wrong must have happened. I just don’t know what and I can’t make that big of an accusation just yet,” Jarvis said as the camera displayed footsteps going up the stairs. “Peggy, if the kid says something, I just hope I can send you this tape and you can do something about it. I’m genuinely worried sick over the boy.”_

_He came to a stop and opened the door to Tony’s room, which was dark. The boy could be heard sniffling in his sleep. Jarvis propped the camera against a desk, and switched the lights on, which revealed a room decorated with Captain America posters, and a prop of the shield hung on the wall._

_“Tony? Can you come from under the covers, please?”_

_“What is it you want, Jay?” Tony moaned miserably. His voice still hoarse and cracking._

_“Just wanted to check on yo—”_

_“M’fine.”_

_“No, you’re not,” Jarvis took a seat by the edge of the bed. “Can you please tell me what happened in the study room?”_

_“No.”_

_“Tony, please?”_

_“No.”_

_“Please. I wanna help you. I wanna protect you.”_

_“And I wanna believe that,” the kid finally came from under the covers as he sat up and looked Jarvis straight in the eyes. “I wanna believe I can be helped and protected but guess what, Jay? I’m not. And I can’t be. Everybody at school beats me up just as bad as him. And you wanna know why? Because I’m the Stark kid. I'm doomed, Jay. I escape the beatings here, I go there and face the same damn thing. I try to escape it all and walk around the streets? It’s only a matter of minutes before a kidnapper locates me and it’s all because I'm the Stark kid!_

_I try to follow your advice, y’know? Staying positive and looking on the bright side? Yeah, doesn’t quite work. Because every night I pray that the great and noble Steve Rogers returns to protect me. To help me. To save me from all of this! But he’s not here. He’s not here and he will never be here because Howard can’t find him and I’m so desperate for him to be found already. But Howard gave up on that and so did I. I gave up on being saved a long time ago. I just wanna—” the kid’s voice cracked as he choked on his sobs. “I just wanna die.”_

Steve inhaled sharply at the words that rolled off the young kid’s tongue. Only ten years old at the time and already suicidal and depressed. He couldn’t help the tears that rolled off his cheek as he watched the British butler pull the sobbing kid into his embrace and rocking back and forth until the genius quieted down. 

_“Tony, my sweetheart, the most precious gem on Earth, please don’t say that. Please don’t—god, just please don’t,” Jarvis cooed as he ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair. “I need you to tell me what happened, sweetheart. Please tell me.”_

_Tony laughed hysterically at that, which Jarvis’ eyes could be seen widening in horror at the sound of, and then he held on to Jarvis’ shirt as he answered, “Nothing that Steve Rogers wouldn’t be proud of.”_

* * *

“Steve, you can stop watching these. You’re torturing yourself,” Thor said. 

“No, I have to. I have to know what lies he has fed his son’s head with.” 

They went through more and more tapes, and they weren’t that different. More beatings, more insults, more comparisons and references to Steve, more visits from Peggy, Tony caving in on himself more and more with every tape, and Jarvis trying to hold the broken boy together. In one particular tape, Howard has beaten up a fourteen-year-old Tony to a literal pulp for being sent a letter from the school for talking back to a teacher. Tony was halfway through explaining that the teacher was taunting him and had humiliated him in front of his class but was immediately shut down with punches and kicks until he was left on the floor of Howard’s study room bloody and crying silently. The teenager took a few minutes to get up successfully after and limped his way out of his father’s space. 

There was a precious tape of Tony conducting his own test runs building a very familiar robot to them. His big eyes shone bright as he leaned towards the camera to set it up in place before taking a step back. _“Hey. I’m building a robot, I guess. Haven’t named it yet, but, uhh, yeah. I’m running tests right now,” he explained awkwardly as he faced the camera. He was so short compared to the huge machine next to him,_ and Steve’s eyes softened at how adorable he looked.

 _His sweatshirt was slightly oversized, his brown curls fell perfectly upon his face even though it was messy, his button of a nose was tinted pink, and his eyes were big and decorated with thick, long eyelashes. He still sported the dark circles around his eyes,_ and Steve frowned a bit upon the realization. 

_“It’s... supposed to be this smart robotic arm. Do as it’s told and obey commands. Pretty nifty if I do say so myself.” The teenager turned around to power the machine on. “Alright. Here goes nothing. Uh, Machine, grab the ball on the other side of my desk.”_

_Machine walked towards the ball on Tony’s desk, grabbed it, and stopped halfway through its walk back to Tony, swung its arm, and “Uh-oh, don’t you do it,” it threw the ball straight at Tony’s face._

_“Ow! What was that for?” Tony rubbed at his forehead. The Machine whirred happily._ The Avengers couldn’t help but chuckle to themselves. 

_“You dummy! Are you mocking me?” The Machine whirred yet again._

_“Guess it’s my fault. I did program you myself, anyway,” he walked to the camera to turn it off, but not before sighing. “I’m the dummy here. Genius my a—”_

The next clip played, and the Avengers realized that Tony must have compiled these videos in one tape. However, someone was holding the camera this time around. 

_“Alright. It’s recording,” Jarvis informed._

_“Alright. This is the second test of Unnamed-Machine. God, I still have no idea what to call the dummy. Anyway, let’s get this over with. Machine, get me the ball that’s on my desk.” Machine did as it was told this time, except that it didn’t wait for Tony to reach with his hand to grab the ball as it dropped it to the floor instead._

_“Jesus,” Tony muttered. “Again. Grab the other ball that’s on my desk.”_

_Machine whirred in acknowledgement, grabbed the ball, and then “Don’t you do it again, you son of a—” swung its arm and threw the ball straight at Tony’s face. Jarvis laughed behind the camera as Machine whirred and even spun around on its wheels happily. “You dummy! You are the dumbest machine ever!” Jarvis laughed harder as Tony stomped his foot angrily. “Jaaaaarrvissss, don’t laaaaugh!” Tony whined. “I only got a few days left before the deadline. And Howard’s gonna be furious if he knows I used all the material from his workshop over a machine that doesn’t even work!”_

_“Tony, you’ll figure something out. Look, it’s already obeying your orders, it just seems to understand what it’s doing. You’ve given it so much emotion. Look at it! It's whirring and spinning around like some happy child!” Jarvis chuckled. “It might be a dummy, but I see you’ve left a piece of you in its program.”_

_“What does that even mean? I’m a certified genius, y’know? I'm not a dummy,” Tony frowned._

_“You might be a genius, but you’re an idiot sometimes. Look at it, Tony. Do you see what you’ve created? It understands that it’s messing with you. It’s enjoying that. It’s reacting, Tony. It’s rebelling against orders just to have fun. It's like you! Can't you see it?” Jarvis set the camera on a table and walked into frame to hold a miserable looking Tony who had his arms crossed and his skinny and short figure leaning against the desk behind him. “You’re so smart, Tony. You’ll figure something out. But don’t beat yourself up too much. It’s quite a smart robot.”_

_The Machine tilted its arm to the side in wonder, and Tony looked at it before letting out the most heartwarming giggle there is, to which Machine whirred happily and stretched its arm to nuzzle it by Tony’s neck, who giggled even louder at that and Jarvis chuckled in delight at the scene._

_“You’re not so bad,” Tony said as he patted the robotic arm on his neck. “You’re still a dummy, but you’re a cute dummy. I like you.”_

_“You’ve been calling that thing a dummy far too much, it might as well be its name,” Jarvis said fondly._

_“That’s... not so bad. Hmm. It would have to be Dum-E though. So I could come up with an acronym when Howard makes fun of it. You like that, Dum-E?”_

_The machine, now Dum-E, whirred happily and raised its arm up and down to mimic a nod, to which Jarvis’ jaw dropped and said, “See?! It’s so smart! It’s a great creation!”_

* * *

“He was so precious. He didn’t deserve any of what he went through,” Bruce muttered to himself, but quickly realized that he spoke loud enough to be heard by the others. They all seemed to agree anyway. 

“Alright. There are just two more tapes and—wait. One’s labelled for Howard. The handwriting’s just smeared off a bit. Which one do we watch first?” Clint asked as he held both tapes. 

“The unlabeled one,” Steve said immediately as he hoped it would display yet another heartwarming footage. 

However, the tape begged to differ. It took place in what looked like Tony’s room, though less Captain America posters decorated the walls. The date displayed on the corner of the screen told them that Tony was fifteen years old at the time. He was filming himself work on a complicated piece of technology for research purposes, before Howard interrupted the teenager’s moments of peace as he barged in. Amidst Tony’s violent flinch, the camera knocked over to prop straight on the desk to display Tony’s shaking figure turn towards the direction of his father, who was seething with a paper held in his hand. 

_“What. Is. This?” Howard said through gritted teeth before he threw the paper towards Tony. Tony picked it up and read it quickly._

_“Howard, Sir, please know that—”_

_“No wonder why you’re here. You’re suspended off campus?! And for what? For being a fucking fag!”_

_“Just listen to me! I was high, okay? I didn’t even know I would get high. They’re all older than me and they told me if I were to take one drag nothing would happen. I was stupid, okay! Is that what you wanna hear me tell you?”_

_“You fucking dumb piece of shit. You are a fucking disgrace to the Stark family,” Howard said as he stepped forward slowly like a predator hunting down a quick prey. “The last thing I expected from you is to be a fucking faggot! You disgust me.” Howard spat at Tony’s face before he turned around to leave, but the camera caught on the angry and frustrated look on the teenager._

_“You know, that’s fucking rich coming from you. Because if I remember correctly, you have your dick in my mouth whenever you—”_

_Howard quickly strode back to Tony and grabbed his neck as he put a hand over his mouth. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Howard shouted as he dragged Tony by the neck and threw him on the bed. Tony immediately started clawing at his father’s hands and neck to try to get him off. “GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME, YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”_

_Jarvis came immediately to the room. He tried to get Howard off the teenager, who he started to punch mercilessly. “Howard, get off him! Howard please!”_

_Howard immediately let go of a choking Tony just to push Jarvis away. When Tony caught on the fist forming by Howard’s side, he immediately got up and tried to pull at the angry man's arm. But the scrawny kid could only do so little, so he resorted to screaming at Jarvis to get out._

_“No no no, don’t hurt him! Howard please, just hit me instead! Jarvis, please! Get out! PLEASE JARVIS JUST GET OUT!”_

_“Howard, I swear to god, if you do anything to the boy, I will report you to the authorities. You hear that? No, no! Don’t lock the door!”_

_Tony pushed Jarvis out with all his might and locked the door before Howard could get to the British man. Howard chuckled darkly at the boy’s glare at him. Tony weekly coughed blood out. Jarvis’ frantic and loud knocks shook the door as he screamed for Tony to open it and for Howard to not touch him._

_“You think you’re all of that? You’re not a hero, you know? You’re not the one to make the sacrifice play,” Howard mocked,_ and Steve winced as he recalled the time he said something similar to the genius. _“You still have his posters around. I should have known. I should have known you were just being a dirty pervert. No wonder why you were so desperate for him to be found—”_

_“Which you failed to do, loser,” Tony said and smirked when he saw the anger bubble from within at that. He still couldn’t help shaking in fear upon seeing his father’s eyes darken._

_“You wanna be a brat? I’ll show you what that gets you.”_

_And just like that, he was grabbed by a fistful of hair and thrown on the bed yet again. Tony tried to kick, punch, scratch, scream,_

_“HOWARD, STOP! DON’T HURT HIM!”_

_all to no avail. His father quickly out-powered him and turned the boy on his stomach as he dug his knee on his back to keep the struggling teenager in place. He undid his belt and quickly tried to push Tony’s sweatpants down._

_“Nononononono, please don’t do this! Please! Anything but this, I’m begging you! Howard, I’m—” Tony’s voice muffled as his head was pressed against the mattress. The boy continued to wriggle and struggle and scream and_

_“I’M CALLING PEGGY! AND SOON ENOUGH I’LL CALL THE FUCKING AUTHORITIES, HOWARD! YOU HEAR THAT? DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!”_

_his body panicked. He was cold and paralyzed. He couldn’t hear if he was still screaming, or if Jarvis was still trying to break the door. All he could feel was sharp, white pain as he was being violated and torn in half. He was well aware he couldn’t see or breathe properly upon being shoved into his mattress, but he still shut his eyes tightly. He liked to think that the tighter he shut them, the more of a dream this would be, and he would be able to open his eyes and wake up._

_But his father picked up a merciless, brutal speed. Howard wrapped his hands around Tony’s neck and picked his head up from the mattress, which made his back arch painfully. He opened his eyes and saw the Captain America poster hung above his bed._

_And that’s when everything came crashing down on him._

_He could hear slaps of skin against skin. He could hear Jarvis screaming for someone over the phone to hurry between cries for Howard to stop. He could hear his father’s grunts and the strings of humiliating words being thrown at him. He heard the sound of loud spanks against his thighs. He heard his own sobs and miserable moans that he tried to suppress only to choke on them against Howard’s tight hold of his neck._

_He saw the Captain America poster hung above his bed._

_He could smell Howard’s cologne and cigarettes. He could smell the copper of blood coming from his mouth. He could smell sweat. He could smell fine wood burning against the smoldering iron he has left on his desk._

_He saw the Captain America poster hung above his bed._

_He could feel pain. He could feel misery. He could feel his heart beat uncontrollably against his chest, as if it was trying to run away from his filthy body. He could feel his thighs shake. He could feel darkness wrap around his vision and mind. He could feel his lungs burn as they exhaled and inhaled with much trouble. He could feel his stomach warm up uncomfortably as he felt sicker and sicker with every thrust. He could feel the desire to die._

_He saw the Captain America poster hung above his bed._

_He sobbed loudly and held on as tightly as he could to the sheets._

_“Howard? Howard open the door!” Peggy could be heard demanding. “Open the door or I’m breaking in!”_

_“You hear that?” Howard whispered into the teenager’s ear before biting on it. “They’re trying to save you. How adorable.”_

_“HOWARD! I SAID OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!”_

_And as the doorknob was being fiddled with, Howard picked up the speed even more aggressively before he released something warm and filthy. Something that reminded Tony of the night before Christmas, and the many nights after that._

_There was a loud grunt, and there was the sound of a loud click against a pin before footsteps barged in. The weight above his body was lifted off. His body laid slumped against the mattress, but he could feel the exposed skin get covered despite the warm-and-filthy and blood trickle down his thighs. He could feel the hold against his body as he was pulled into an embrace he was far too familiar with to not be able to register. He heard the sound of a taser and those goddamn grunts again._

_“Tony, sweetheart?” the woman who wore red lipstick religiously spoke softly and slowly as she knelt in front of him. “You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” She smiled as she cupped his face, to which he involuntarily twitched and flinched away. His face felt so sore, and the blood around his mouth was beginning to dry and sting his chapped lips. “Listen to me, my precious boy. I’ll ship him off somewhere where he can work very far away from you. He had a work contract coming up soon anyway, but I'll rush it. For you. From tonight, he won’t be around you anymore. Okay?” Peggy said, her voice cracking and her eyes glazing over as she brushed through the scared boy’s hair, only for her heart to break over the unseeing eyes Tony wore. It was almost as if he wasn’t right there in Jarvis’ tight embrace. His body was here, shivering and shaking violently under the touch, and yet his mind wasn’t. Peggy looked at Jarvis, who was gulping down his cries, but his tears rolled off his cheeks and buried themselves in Tony’s soft curls. She let out a shaky breath before she said, “Gosh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hadn’t thought of that much earlier. You deserve so much be—”_

The tape got cut, probably from lack of battery life. And the Avengers sat in an uncomfortable, heavy silence. Steve looked around in a daze. He wasn’t crying. He felt numb. He couldn’t think. His head kept screaming at him that this was all a movie. It wasn’t real, but it was. He looked around to see everyone else look down at their laps in shock, except for Bruce who cornered himself on a couch, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands in his hair as he rocked himself back and forth trying to contain the beast within him that kept growling “Tony hurt!” over and over again. 

Without a second thought, Steve got up to grab the last tape from the box. FOR HOWARD. Steve looked at the name with something he thought he would never associate to anyone from his past other than the Nazis he had fought. Despite his team’s protests and them telling him “Enough! We don’t wanna see anymore!” He knew he had to see all of it. He had to understand all of it. 

The team muted themselves as soon as Tony’s tear stained face came into view. His hair was a mess. Facial hair was starting to grow above his lips and on his chin, and clothes were as oversized as ever. His room, was a renovated mess. No Captain America poster in sight. Dum-E was whirring by Tony’s side as the arm laid around his shoulder, and a bottle of Vodka could be seen by the corner of the frame. 

However, what caught Steve and Natasha’s attention the most was the date. 

**_December 16th, 1991._ **

“The day his parents died...” Natasha whispered. Clint, Thor, and Bruce perked up in concern in their seats. 

_“I had another nightmare. I’ve... always had nightmares,” Tony croaked out. He didn’t look at the lens of camera the entire time he talked._

_“The nightmares. They’re... they’re always about you. You’re always in them. The therapist Aunt Peggy tried to make me sit with says that’s what happens when you’re traumatized. I’m traumatized,” Tony whispered the last part almost to himself. A revelation. “Jarvis is tired. He’s so tired. He’s been trying to make things seem and feel normal, but I can tell and see that I'm hurting him. The only two people I know from MIT. I've shut them out. I'm hurting them too. Obadiah visits me often. He... he takes care of me in his own way, and I always end up screaming at him to get out. But he ends up staying. You should tell him I say thank you. Because I’m not gonna be here by the next time he visits to tell him so myself,” Tony shuddered, and so did the viewers of the message. “I’m tired. I really am. I can’t do this for longer. Not when all I can think about is killing myself,” he scratched at his chest,_ and Steve had to remind himself that Tony isn’t wearing the arc reactor yet. 

_“This is stupid. You don’t care. You probably won’t even watch this. I just wanted to get it out there,” he grabbed the bottle of vodka and held it tightly against his chest. “When I drift off, I'll think of you. I’ll think of all the pain you’ve put me through. Live with that. Die with that,” the teen said bitterly as he grabbed an orange bottle. It rattled as he moved it around before he opened the cap and emptied its contents on his palm. Dum-E whirred inquiringly as he pulled away from the boy’s warm shoulder to watch what was going on. Tony shoved the pills in his mouth and downed it all with a gulp of alcohol. He choked initially, and almost threw up, but he drank some more until his throat ached, and tears were brought to his eyes when the ache felt like the night before Christmas. His shaky hand unknowingly reached for the camera to shut it off, but immediately froze in place when he heard a knock on the door._

_“Sir? Tony? Sweetheart? May I come in?” Jarvis asked from the other side of the door._

_“Shit,” Tony muttered. “In a minute, Jay.” He grabbed the now empty bottles and pushed them under his desk, then turned around to Dum-E. “Shh. Don’t snitch.”_

_Jarvis came in and stood awkwardly for a minute, before he made it to where Tony was sat by his desk and knelt in front of him. He looked at the boy’s face for a solid minute, and his brows furrowed. “Tony? You alright?”_

_“Peachy,” Tony said, a dopey smile on his face. The sleeping pills were taking action._

_Dum-E whirred and beeped._

_“I believe there’s not a better way to say this. But... your parents were in a car accident, just a few hours ago.”_

_Tony’s head lolled to the side and his brows furrowed. Jarvis continued, “They... say that Howard was drunk. They swerved off the lane and hit a tree, I believe. They’re...” Jarvis let out a shaky breath as the boy’s face remained blank and unwavering. “They’re dead.”_

_Dum-E whirred and beeped._

_Tony nodded as a deep frown cut through his lips. “Even her? Mom?”_

_“I’m... I’m afraid so, my dear.”_

_“He took her with him,” Tony slurred begrudgingly as his eyes glistened over. “She promised she would take me to Italy. She said it was beautiful. l'Italia è bellissima. Non sono."_

_Dum-E whirred and beeped._

_“I’m sorry, Tony,” Jarvis whispered as he bowed his head. In his weary and sleepless daze, he caught sight of an empty pill bottle standing still along with an empty bottle of alcohol under Tony’s desk. He reached for them only to be caught off guard by Tony’s figure leaning heavily on him. He looked over Dum-E whose arm was spinning around frantically._

_Dum-E whirred and beeped, and Jarvis’ eyes widened in horror as he realized what this is._

_“Tony? Tony?! Oh god...” the man cupped Tony’s cheeks and tried to slap at his reddening cheeks. His body was sweating and burning up at an increasing rate. His eyes were drooping against their will as the excessive sleeping pills tried to pull him under, only for a hand sharp enough in its touch to keep him awake, yet gentle enough to not hurt him, kept urging him to fight the effects off._

_But he was tired. And despite the burn in his chest and throat, he chased after this._

_“Tony please stay awake! Please! I can't lose you!” the British man sobbed loudly as he adjusted the boy’s body to carry him bridal style and ran out of the room wailing in urgency and despair. The camera was knocked over upon the mayhem of events, and Dum-E whirred sadly as he reached for the camera, propped it against the desk, then walked out of frame to reach for something, which was later on revealed to be the same ball from the testing tapes, and placed it where Tony was seated._

_And as the tape glitched before it cut, Dum-E whirred and beeped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "l'Italia è bellissima. Non sono." translates to "Italy is beautiful. I'm not."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was woken out of a nightmare when Bruce barged into his room and shook him out of his forlorn sleep. His voice was laced with that of the Hulk’s, and Tony mentally facepalmed himself for not pointing it out to Fury that as much as they were living with Bruce Banner, they were also living with a green rage monster who has no room of contamination in this mansion.

“Tony hurt! Hulk sad!”

“Woah there, big guy! Calm down, honey. Everything’s okay. Everybody’s okay,” Tony whispered calmly as he stroked at Bruce’s arm that was littered in patches of green. The rest of the Avengers came after Bruce and urged him to get out of the room, but Tony held onto the Doctor. “It’s okay, guys. Just... I’ll try to calm him down.”

The Avengers weren’t quite convinced by that, Tony concluded. However, he could see that the green tint all over Bruce’s skin was absorbed back into the Doctor’s skin the more he spoke and the more he joked and teased around with his science bro. The rest of the members watched on fondly as Tony scooted the Doctor over so he would lie properly in the bed to calm down, but he stayed sat up, just closer to a safe, and alive Tony.

Bruce finally calmed down enough to mumble a “Thank you, Tony,” to which the engineer smiled widely ( _a paparazzi smile,_ Bruce thought with a frown) and said, “Anything for my favorite Doct—woah.”

Bruce held onto Tony tightly as he nuzzled his head against his neck and cried. Natasha held her breath as she anticipated Bruce doing the wrong move of telling Tony about everything that they now know about him. She looked over to Steve, Thor, and Clint, who were all seated on a large lounging chair next to the bed, and they seemed to share her same unspoken concern.

“What’s up, Bruce? You alright? Talk to me, buddy. You’re getting me worried,” Tony asked as he ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair.

“I-I j-just...”

“The Hulk’s been feeling anxious and paranoid around here. You should’ve seen him when you weren’t around for a day. He just... got really paranoid about you not being around in this new place to him...” Clint said, to which Steve made a mental note to thank him for later.

But Tony’s eyes widened slightly as he looked over the shaking figure in his arms. “God, I’m sorry, Bruce. I never know how the Hulk would be like, but I should’ve known this new area would cause a few bumps along the road. I’m sorry, big guy,” Tony patted the man’s back. “But hey! We’re okay. Yeah, yeah, it’s concerning that Clint isn’t nesting in the vents yet, and I'm honestly a bit paranoid about that myself, but other than that, everything’s A-Okay. Right guys?” Tony said cheerfully and looked around him to see the tension plastered upon the Avengers’ faces.

“Guys? Hello? Earth to the Avengers.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Thor tried to smile. “Everything’s alright.”

Tony’s eyes furrowed in confusion, but he decided that they must be concerned for the doctor and let his confusion seep out of his mind quickly. He focused on calming the man in his arms, and soon enough, the doctor pulled away with a shaky smile. “I’m sorry. Got your shirt all wet.”

“Don’t worry about it. You okay?”

Bruce’s eyes skimmed over the glowing blue arc reactor, then over Tony’s face. Alive. Breathing. Glowing blue.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay.”

* * *

Tony got up early the next morning after his sleep was interrupted by yet another nightmare. He sighed heavily and scratched at the skin around the arc reactor, which despite it being almost nine months since Afghanistan, still irritated him from time to time; not to mention that his lung capacity has greatly diminished, and he often found breathing more of a difficult task rather than a natural bodily phenomenon. And if random pangs of pain came upon his heart, he blamed his lack of sleep and poor diet, but not the shrapnels that were dire to mince his heart if it weren’t for the glowing blue technology in his chest. Now, however, all his heart complications served as a distraction from his current situation, and weirdly enough, Tony found himself grateful for it.

 _And isn’t that strange?_ He thought to himself. _I seek comfort in memories of events where there was none. Not because I’m trying to cope, but because I’m trying to hide, escape, run. I hide from one nightmare to seek refuge in another. There is no calm, only a storm._

He’s walking around the mansion like mines could be potentially under his feet, and he holds his breath as he passes by his childhood room, and he fears that if he were to walk in there that he would see red, blue, and white stars decorate the walls and not the suite of a man he fights alongside with. He shuts his eyes tightly as he passes by Howard’s study room, but all he could see is green, red, and gold, and he could hear a voice in his head mockingly sing _jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..._

He makes the mistake of peeking in the lounging area separated from the living room and he winces as his head assaults him with images of an angry British woman shouting at his sixteen year old self _“I’m not gonna watch you drink yourself to death, Tony!”_ before she left with the promise to visit him again tomorrow and trusting Obadiah to look over him. _“Relax, Peggy. I got this.”_

He didn’t know the word to this back then, and he didn’t know that it was bad. All he knew was that he was drunk, Obadiah was almost always around him and away from his wife, and something about how Tony owed him just that much. _“Let me show you what it feels like to be a man. Trust me, Tony. Once you let yourself feel it, you’ll ask for more and more. It doesn’t have to be so painful.”_

Tony winced as he could hear the ghost of his own strings of objections and refusals, and the strings of gaslighting phrases that he didn’t even know how to identify as such until just a few months ago when the man tried to kill him. His eyes feel hot and warm and he’s repeatedly calling himself an idiot for taking that long to figure it out and understand. He chokes on a sob as he remembers how desperate he was every time. How he begged for it. How Obadiah always gave him the illusion of choice and consent. _“Okay, I’m gonna stop,” he would say with a grimace as he stops palming Tony over his pants. “You said no, so...”_

_“Wait, no, I-” Tony’s mind would glitch right then and there. He had said no, initially, but Obadiah always took that as some sort of challenge and touched Tony anyway. His fingers were calculating, yet pleasuring, and Tony always found himself moaning through cries of “Nonononononono not again not again,” and “Please stop please Obi.” He wouldn’t stop—not until he made Tony hard and pleasured, which always forced Tony to retreat his refusals. Except Obadiah was smart and evil, and he wouldn’t touch Tony again until the boy practically cried out through his confusion and daze “Please! Please touch me again! It feels good and I promise I won’t say no again!”_

Obadiah also knew of how touch starved the teenager grew up to be, and he took the most advantage of that. Just a few _“accidental”_ brushes against the boy’s thighs or resting a warm hand on the boy’s chest where his thumb would purposely rub against a nipple into hardness and sensitivity, and Tony’s blood would drench in guilt and shame and absolute pleasure. He would ask— _no, beg_ —Obadiah to touch him. _“Like... like last time... when, uh... you touched me...” he would mumble as his cheeks heat up in embarrassment._

_“Touch you? Where, Tony?” Obadiah would ask seductively, and Tony wanted to cry in shame._

_“Gosh, I... like, when you touched me... here...” and he would point his finger between his legs as his head bowed down._

_“Tony,” Obadiah would say sternly. “I’m not doing anything you don’t ask me directly to do. I’m not going to force myself on you. You have to ask. I have to have your consent. And look at me when you ask for it, Tony.”_

Tony winced as he recalled the words. Part of him still believed that he has been asking Obadiah for it all along, that Obadiah didn’t break and brainwash his mind enough to force Tony to ask for it.

That it was not rape.

_Tony sobbed as he raised his head and opened his legs, leaning against Obadiah as he wailed out the words “Please touch me between my legs like you would always do. Make me... make me feel good.”_

And that’s how Tony would end up placed in between the man’s the legs with his back resting against his chest. He would moan and cry as the older man stroked torturously slow. But Obadiah knew what he was doing. He wanted to make Tony more and more desperate with every stroke. Until one day he finally programmed the idea in Tony’s head to have sex. _“Proper sex. Like a real man.”_

_Tony was manhandled gently. Tony was touched gently. Tony was spoken to gently._

_Tony was moaning in pleasure. Tony was crying in pleasure. Tony’s eyes rolled in pleasure. Tony’s toes curled in pleasure. Tony’s back arched in pleasure. Tony’s thighs trembled in pleasure. Tony was begging for more pleasure._

_Tony’s mind was broken._

He drops to the floor as he bites down on his hand to keep from sobbing loudly. Here he was approaching his thirties and still wondering whether Obadiah raped him or not. His broken, filthy mind always loved to tell him that it can’t be rape when he had enjoyed it so much, and not when he became a notorious playboy off it. But a fraction of his mind loved itself enough to point out that he was sixteen, mentally unstable, and almost always drunk and high on drugs until he couldn’t remember his name. And even when Tony wasn’t drunk, Obadiah has memorized and studied Tony’s body enough to know what would instantly give him a hard-on and what wouldn’t, and he always made it his mission to turn Tony into a babbling, pathetic mess.

Obadiah didn’t even stop after Tony came back from Afghanistan. Instead, he would lay Tony down and be careful not to touch his tender chest so much, but he wouldn’t stop when Tony complained his chest hurt, nevertheless.

It took killing him and spending two weeks alone with Rhodey, whose eyes widened in horror when a heavily drunk Tony casually told him he misses the sex with the deceased man, only to spill more and more information and confessions a sober version of Tony would never speak about how it all started when he was sixteen. Rhodey sat him down for a long, long talk that started off with, _“Tony. That wasn’t sex. That was rape, Tony. It’s no different than what those men in Afghanistan did to you.”_

_“But in Afghanistan, they were rough and painful. They made me bleed and black out. He... He was gentle. He made me feel good. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t rape me,” Tony would slur with big, innocent eyes before whispering a heartbreaking “Right?”_

_“Oh, Tony,” Rhodey would cry and hold him tightly._

But Rhodey, the only human being who knows about this, wasn’t here and Tony was losing his mind again. He couldn’t move. He was frozen in the narrow and bleak hallways of the mansion that seemed to know no end, and his mind was screaming at him not to have a mental breakdown now.

Too late. He was shaking violently as he hugged his knees to his chest. He was rocking back and forth, with his head hitting the hard, white wall behind him. He hated these walls. They saw and heard too much, and he had the urgent desire to paint over them. The scream in his mind was in the forefront, begging him to hit his head harder against the wall. And he thought maybe this way, the flashbacks would be put on pause like some video on the internet, like the many celebrity gossip shows his name has been dragged to filth by, like the ticking bomb in a missile, like his heart, his mind, his memories and thoughts. But they didn't. They never knew a pause. He wished they all did.

_Nonononononono not again not again..._

_I’m not going to force myself on you._

_Tony. That wasn’t sex._

_Captain America would be so fucking proud of you._

_Jericho! Jericho or no freedom!_

_Proper sex. Like real men._

_He won’t be around you anymore. Okay?_

_I like hearing you cry._

_You’re wired to a car battery. It’s keeping you alive._

_They’re trying to save you. How adorable._

_They say if you don’t build the Jericho, they’ll... they’ll..._

_It’s no different than what those men in Afghanistan did to you._

_Howard! Open the bloody door!_

_Is Tony Stark the Avengers’ whore?_

_So you’re a man who has everything, and nothing._

_You will break._

_I’m so sorry, sweetheart._

_I won’t say no again!_

_That was rape, Tony._

Tony’s mind and vision blurred, but not before he painted over the white, bleak walls.

* * *

Steve could hear steady thuds from his room, but he mistook it for the throb in his head. However, the thuds grew louder and quicker, and they were accompanied by pained grunts.

Tony.

He shot up from his bed, and nearly tumbled over on his way out of the room and down the long, long, staircase. He quickly located his teammate and found him hitting his head hard against the hard wall behind him. His eyes were shut tight, but the tears found an escape anyway, and he could see splotches of red on the wall. He rushed over to Tony to try and stop him, but the engineer let out a scream upon the contact.

“I DON’T WANNA BE TOUCHED I DON’T WANNA BE TOUCHED STOP TOUCHING ME!”

Steve’s heart broke and he immediately removed his hand as if touching Tony burnt his skin, and the engineer retreated to practically bashing his head against the wall behind him. Steve had to stop this, and his heart sank in terror when Tony screamed, “OBI STOP! I DON’T WANT THIS I DON’T WANT THIS STOP MESSING WITH MY MIND OBI! GET OUT OF IT GET OUT OF IT GET OUT OF IT!”

“He... he touched you too?” Steve whispered as he doubled over in his crouch, his stomach twisted and churned, and he wanted to make a run for the sink again.

“Tony? Tony can you hear me? You’re... you’re okay. You’re with the Avengers. Nobody’s gonna hurt you or touch you.” But that didn’t get to the genius, and soon enough everybody else was crouched by Tony (“Don’t touch him or get too close,” Steve warned) not knowing what to do as they watched him scream and scratch roughly at his neck, the skin around the arc reactor, and occasionally hit his head against the wall or punch at his temples with both hands.

However, Thor seemed to have an idea to put an end to this. He reached out slowly with both hands towards the engineer, and spoke softly as he told him of every move he was taking towards him. He placed his hands against the screaming man's temples and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Tony’s body was unmoving, and Steve gasped, but Thor hummed, which was enough of a signal for him to not reach out just yet. Thor’s face scrunched in concentration and pain. Tony finally opened his eyes, but they were a bright golden color, and Steve’s breath hitched at just how beautiful he looked. Thor kept mumbling words and phrases in a language none of them understood, and Tony’s body was slowly unfolding from its tense clutch and his head started healing right before them. Tony’s golden eyes skimmed around the room, and his lips croaked a hoarse “Woah,” to which Steve sadly smiled at. Whatever Thor was showing him was clearly putting the panicking man at ease, and Steve whispered his gratitude to Thor when he pulled away from Tony’s space. The bright gold in Tony’s eyes started to dissipate, and Tony blinked a few times before he focused on the first thing he came in sight with.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve whispered.

“Hey,” Tony smiled, but then realized his voice is cracking and his head is throbbing. He reached his hand behind him, and felt the warm blood around his healed, bruised skull. “What happened?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“I believe you have slipped. But do not worry, Man of Iron. I have prayed the god’s of Asgard to heal you, and surely my prayers fell on attentive ears. You just ought to wash the blood away,” Thor smiled.

“I slipped? I don’t even remember leaving my bed,” Tony asked with furrowed brows. “And why are you all awake? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s alright, Tony. We heard you fall and thought it was an intruder. That’s all. Maybe you were sleep walking,” Natasha lied casually, which Steve nodded in agreement with.

“Does anyone want breakfast? I’m hungry. I want pancakes,” Clint said to change the subject, which worked. Tony was too tired and too mentally exhausted to think of why his head was bleeding, but as he tagged along behind the Avengers to the kitchen, he looked back at the not-so-white-anymore wall and smiled.

* * *

Steve sipped on bitter coffee. He was uneasy, angry, and heartbroken.

Howard had touched him. Obadiah had touched him. He was just a kid robbed off his childhood. He was always just looking up to the adults. They spoke over him and caged him. No wonder why he grew up to be spontaneous, talkative, and childish. He was just trying to catch up on what he has missed on in the only ways he knew how to. He was always surrounded by people older than him, taller than him, bigger than him. No wonder why he did whatever it took to always look bigger than life, to stand a little straighter, to talk back, and to relish in the arrogant, egoistic, self-centered asshole persona.

Steve resented that, but now he understands it.

“That’s not how you like your coffee,” Tony pointed out as he took a seat on the stool opposing the soldier. “Something’s on your mind.”

It wasn’t a question. Tony knew Steve. In fact, Tony knew everyone. He took the time to study their files and took even more time to study them in person. He paid attention to them, but they never did the same to him. And it seems as though the rest of the team is reading Steve’s mind, because they all share a look of guilt that Tony was too invested in munching on a bowl of cereal and occasionally typing things on his tablet to notice.

“Just... worried about this whole HYDRA thing...”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a real burner. But don’t worry, Fury and I are getting to the heart of this. I’m hacking them right now as we speak,” Tony said casually. “And I now know how they managed to hack JARVIS, by the way.”

“Really? How?” Bruce asked.

“Remember that mission Captain was on a month back at one of HYDRA’s facilities? He came back with his suit torn, which by the way, once we reach the tower, I'll hand you an upgraded version. A stealth suit. Shit’s tough as nails. Bulletproof, cut proof, burnproof, needle proof, yada yada. Nothing can get to it,” another spoonful of Lucky Charms. “Right, well. I placed a new piece of nanotech in Steve’s suit. A tracker. The tracker’s linked directly to JARVIS, and that’s exactly how these bastards got to my precious AI.”

“You placed a tracker in Steve’s suit?” Natasha inquired with a raised brow.

“I placed trackers in all of your suits. And weaponry.”

“Why?”

“Dude! What if you go missing? What if you get kidnapped? Someone should know where you guys are at, y’know? And the weaponry? Same reasons, but also what if they are left behind or lost during a mission? JARVIS would detect that and basically make them explode so they don’t end up in the wrong hands.”

Steve was about to open his mouth to express how thankful he is for the amount of thought Tony puts into their gear and weapons to ensure the team’s safety, but Clint beat him to it by asking a question.

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, invading our privacy?”

“Don’t worry, Legolas. JARVIS doesn’t tell me if you’re perched up in the vents to plot your pranks or whatever. It’s just during missions.”

“Still,” Clint insisted. Tony sighed and mumbled, “I wish the US army had ‘invaded my privacy’, if that’s what we’re gonna call it.” And _Oh._ They know what he’s referring to.

“Tony, I’m incredibly grateful for the effort and thought you put into ensuring our safety. Thank you,” Steve said.

“Yeah, man. Thank you. It’s just my spy-senses be kicking in sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony waved a hand and finished his cereal. “Bruce, you feeling better, honey bear?”

Bruce’s eyes softened and he smiled fondly at the genius. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

“Since when are you guys are all sweet and polite?”

“Don’t get used to it, Tony. I’ll still kick your ass during sparing sessions,” Natasha smiled mischievously as she sipped on her smoothie.

They continued bickering and chatting. Tony would occasionally mutter a few words under his breath as he worked on his tablet. However, Steve could see that Thor seemed troubled, and has been so since he had pulled Tony out of his mental breakdown. He excused himself to go after Thor who went back to his room to change his shirt that Clint has accidentally spilled orange juice all over.

“I know you saw something. When you did your magic. What was it?”

Thor sighed heavily, his hands reaching to pinch on the bridge of his nose. “Our friend’s memories are flooded with sorrow and pain. It seems that the man who did not deserve to father him was not the only one to—”

“Obadiah hurt him too in the same way, didn’t he?” Steve wasn’t sure if he spared Thor the trouble of saying the word, or the trouble of hearing it himself.

“Ay, my friend. Since a young, vulnerable age. And it seems that the men of Afghanistan did so, too. Recent memories were on the front seats of his mind. I know they were recent because images of his wounded chest were displayed in his time of—”

“Afghanistan? Of course...” Steve whispered as he felt sick. Just how much torture has Tony endured in his lifetime already? “Afghanistan was pretty recent. It hasn’t even been a year yet.”

“My point of reference is after Afghanistan as well,” Thor said as his face reddened with anger. “It seems that Obadiah did not stop his brutal act of violation even after Tony came wounded and weak.”

Steve blinked in shock. He couldn’t comprehend this anymore. In the span of one year, Tony has been kidnapped, his body altered and modified after a near-death experience, fought his way out only to return to the man who has abused his body and trust, watched the man who he had mistakenly trusted die, came out to the world as Iron Man, and nearly lost his life to aliens when he carried a nuke into a wormhole.

“No word of this to the others. Okay?” Thor nodded and swore not to tell as he left off to his room.

Steve has been a soldier in the war. He saw pain and shook hands with it, but this was something he simply couldn’t comprehend. This was pain and sorrow that’s been lived with since a young age until it became the norm to the man. Tony even had it in him to be snarky, to smile, to laugh.

He was strong and brave and vulnerable, and yet, he was TONY STARK: NOT RECOMMENDED.

* * *

“Shit’s fucked up!” Clint threw his hands in the air in defeat when he lost his third round of chess against Tony, who just stuck his tongue out at the archer when he accused him of cheating. “I’m a genius. Duh.”

“Nah. Clint’s just dumb,” Natasha said from her seat.

“Oh yeah? Come up here and win then, red riding hood.”

“Don’t, Nat. He’s cheating. I feel it deep in my bones that he is.”

“How the hell do you even cheat in chess? You’re just a bitter loser.”

Steve, Bruce, and Thor watched with much amusement as Natasha and Clint played against Tony. They all sat in the dining table with Tony being at the head of it. They had nothing better to do, and Tony suggested they play board games that he went to pick up from his old room. They didn't comment when the genius came out almost one hour later shaking and tapping against the arc reactor nervously.

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle to himself whenever Tony rolled his eyes at a move the pair of assassins would take, and just a few moves in, the assassins’ jaws dropped as Tony smirked. “Checkmate.”

“No way! Again!” Natasha demanded.

“Told you he’s cheating,” Clint muttered.

“Cheating? If anything, both of you are playing together against me and I’m all alone with nothing but a genius brain. I’m at a complete disadvantage here.”

“I’ll join in with Clint and Nat,” Bruce smirked mischievously as he shifted his seat slightly towards the spies.

“Bring it on, buttercup.”

They played multiple rounds, and at some point, Thor joined in on the team against Tony. Tony won all rounds easily, and Steve watched as the four opposing members would frustratingly shout “How?!” and “Ugh! Another round!” Tony would just tease them with eye rolls and constant reminders of him being a genius and better than everyone else.

“Shut up, Stark! I bet you can’t win against Steve,” Clint said.

“Capsicle?” Tony addressed Steve. “Mind putting that to the test?”

Natasha smirked and wiggled her brows at Steve as if to say, _“This is your chance to impress your crush”_ , and he blushed as he lightheartedly glared at her.

Clint cleared his seat to make space for the Captain and sat on the other side to watch intently and narrate the chess battle.

“Ladies and gentlemen and raging monsters, it is an epic moment in history. The moment where Tony Stark, THE Tony Stark, the MVP, the genius of all geniuses, the legendary Man of Iron, plays against American patriot, Nazi-puncher, and veteran Steve Rogers, who we thank for his honorable service,” Clint said in a faux narrator voice.

“I hear the game tonight is gonna get quite heated, Barton,” Natasha joined in on the narration of events. “As we see here, Stark’s moves are calculated and taken with much consideration. Will Rogers stand a chance?”

“You guys are a pain in the ass,” Tony said as he made a move, and Steve nods in agreement and makes his own move, to which Bruce hums in amusement. “Good move, Steve.”

“Steve, the legend, the American icon, and symbol of honor and nobility. Will he be the first to win against the genius, the billionaire, the philanthropist, the one and only Iron Man?” Clint continued.

“Over my dead body,” Tony said as he striked with a move of his own, and a chess piece of Steve’s was moved out of the chess board.

“OOOOO! He does not disappoint!” Natasha exclaimed. “Please Steve put us out of our misery and win over this genius bastard. We are begging you.”

“Yeah, do it for America,” Clint said.

A couple of heated moves were made, and most chess pieces out of the board were Tony’s. The four other members of the team were quiet as they watched intently. It seemed that Steve was truly going to win this time around, but the calm and collected look on Tony’s face said otherwise.

Steve made a smart move, and was sure that with just one more, he would be able to win. The move caught Tony by surprise, or at least Steve thought it did, but the genius just smirked and said “Damn. You’re good.”

Steve smiled. He was ready to walk around proudly telling people he led the war against Nazis and _Oh! Not to brag, but I beat Tony Stark—yes, the genius himself—in chess._ However, Tony made one hell of an unexpected move.

“You’re good,” he repeated before pushing the king piece of Steve’s out of its square. “Just not as good as me. Checkmate.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

“OOOOOOO!”

“That’s it. I have a headache. Wake me up when Fury wants the Hulk to swallow a bomb or something.”

“Oh, how Loki would’ve enjoyed watching this.”

Steve stared at the fallen king piece in awe. His jaw was open in shock and he looked up at a smirking Tony who sat on the golden-framed chair like a true king. Steve shook his head in disbelief and chuckled. “Well played.”

“Dude!” Clint flailed his arms in disbelief. “Do you ever lose?”

Tony’s smirk was still plastered on his face, but Steve saw the hint of sadness that his eyes wore upon the question.

“No,” he answered. “Not as much as I would like to.”

* * *

Two more days.

Two more days until he can happily hop his way out of this prison in luxurious disguise. Two more days until he can go to his bots and his precious JARVIS and his haven of a lab and not come out of it until the world is in shambles. Two more days and he’ll drink as much coffee as he wants instead of shoving one sleeping pill after the other just so he could sleep the days away. Two more days and he’ll be able to have his mental breakdowns and practice his self-destructive and borderline suicidal tendencies without worrying about the team witnessing it.

Two more days and he’ll fall in the arms of his loneliness with the whisper of "Honey, I'm home."

It’s not like the company of the Avengers wasn’t enjoyable, it’s that his own company wasn’t enjoyable. He constantly felt a paralyzing sense of paranoia, and his chest tightened uncomfortably whenever he was left alone in this mansion with no voice but his own. He was grateful when he woke up from yet another nightmare that he found Natasha, Steve, and Bruce were awake and speaking in hushed voices in the kitchen. The immediately stopped talking to greet the billionaire.

“Good morning, Tones,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, it is, it is.” He didn’t even bother getting a cup of coffee. The area around the arc reactor hurt him quite badly, and random shots of pain surged through his heart every now and then. He lazily slumped against the kitchen table and groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked, worry evident in his voice.

“Nothing. I’m good,” he said and coughed violently. Natasha caught sight of purple veins forming a pattern around his neck. “Your arc reactor. It’s giving you trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t fix if I can just get to my lab,” he said as he rested his forehead against the table.

“It’s a foreign object. Your body’s still not used to it and trying to reject it,” Bruce says more to himself in realization.

“Which I can fix if I get to my lab.” He sighed heavily as he raised his head, and his eyes landed on the concerned and sad ( _Why?_ ) look on the Captain’s face.

“What’s up with you guys? I feel like you guys are keeping something I should know about.”

“No, Tony,” Natasha said smoothly. “We’re just worried for you.”

“Worried? Why?”

“You do realize we’ve read your file, right? We know that this thing is what’s keeping you alive. So of course we’re concerned when it’s troubling you,” Bruce answered.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is,” Steve said sternly, yet fondly. “Please fix it as soon as we get back.”

“You’re such a mother hen, Rogers,” Tony teased, but something about Steve’s eyes clad in fondness sent yet another surge of pain through the glowing blue.

For the rest of the day, Tony handled various phone calls from SHIELD, Fury, businessmen, Pepper, and audio interviews on various matters concerning the Avengers; Natasha was busy stacking playing cards that she packed with her into a pyramid; Clint parkoured around the grand mansion; Thor and Bruce conducted various playful experiments revolving around Thor’s Mjolnir; Steve was determined to fill up his sketchbook with various sketches.

After a heated argument with a SHEILD agent, Tony found himself hunched over where he was sat in the kitchen table. Steve and Natasha exchanged looks of concern every time Tony’s hand slipped under his shirt casually to hold onto the arc reactor. After the phone call was over, Tony got up and immediately rushed to his room. He took off the bandage he had wrapped around his torso to ease the pain and found the skin around the arc reactor covered in purple veins. He took the arc reactor out momentarily to adjust it comfortably, which surprisingly hurt an awful lot.

“Tony?” a knock at his door startled him, and the arc reactor fell out of his hand and onto the floor. He dropped on his knees to retreat it, but his muscles felt weak and torn. “You okay, Tony?”

“S-Steve...” Tony gasped, but he was sure the soldier wouldn’t have been able to hear him. He reached desperately for the arc reactor, and successfully was able to get a hold on it, but his hands shook badly to be able to put it in his chest. He didn’t register when did Steve enter the room or when he took a hold of the arc reactor and told Tony that everything’s gonna be okay before inserting it in the genius’ chest, who gasped in relief upon seeing it glow again.

“Th-thank you,” he whispered to Steve, who from his position on the floor next to him was so close to Tony’s face. Tony could feel his warm breath on his cheek, and if Steve was able to feel Tony’s heart skip a beat from where he had his palm rested against the arc reactor, he played it off as Tony’s body adjusting yet again to the glowing blue object. Tony’s cheeks reddened as he scrambled out of Steve’s space and hurriedly wore a shirt, suddenly self-conscious.

“Sorry about that. This thing comes out of my chest and I just glitch,” Tony tried to say casually, but it just came out nervous and shaky.

“You took it out of your chest?” Steve got up and looked at Tony with horror filled in his eyes.

“Yeah, I did. This thing needs adjusting, y’know?”

“Oh. Oh, okay. You scared me,” Steve let out a long sigh of relief.

 _Why?_ Tony wanted to ask. Instead, he asked “Are you guys alright? It feels like something’s off. With you guys.”

“How so?” Steve asked. And that’s the thing. He doesn’t know how. He just feels it. He shrugs and taps on the surface of the glowing blue symbol of life. Steve can see how nervous and on edge he is. He can tell Tony’s mind is racing with something he could say to change the subject. So he spares the man the trouble.

“Thor and Bruce are on the roof trying to prank Clint. Wanna check it out?”

Tony gave him a look of absolute appreciation and a warm smile. Steve’s heart almost melted at the sight. “I hope they get him good.”

* * *

They spent the night on the roof after the prank was carried out, which turns out Natasha had known about Bruce and Thor’s conspiracy against the archer and went to warn him. Natasha and Clint conducted a prank of their own and ended up getting the Doctor and the God of Thunder first. Tony and Steve watched from afar as Thor tried to remove the wet hair strands away from his face. “You shall feel the wrath of my pranks alongside the incredible Hulk soon enough, traitors!”

“Shut up, Rapunzel,” Clint yelled before he threw yet another water balloon.

“Okay, okay. Cut it out, children. Let’s camp out here, yeah?” Natasha suggested and went to get a few blankets and pillows. Tony followed after to help get more from a cabinet he knew the place of.

“Is he alright?” Bruce asked when he approached Steve.

“Yeah. He said the arc reactor often needs adjusting. It's... it’s not good for him.”

“Yeah, yeah. But it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Without it, the shrapnels lost in his chest will get to his heart and mince it. It’ll be a very slow and painful death...” Bruce shuddered and so did Steve.

“He’s suspicious, too. He thinks we’re acting weird.”

“I don’t blame him. We rarely ever interacted with him when we moved in the tower. He’s not used to us being so friendly,” Bruce frowned at his realization. Steve felt his heart break under guilt’s hold of him.

“Behold the talk,” Thor instructed when he heard Natasha and Tony’s footsteps come back holding pillows and blankets. Tony gave everybody their blankets and pillows and threw a Captain America pillow Steve’s way. The genius smiled as he propped next to the Captain, but Steve’s face paled when he recognized that the pillow was featured in one of the tapes.

Tony was anticipating some snarky comment come his way from Clint, but the silence of the night fell heavy on his ears. He turned to Clint, who held on to the blanket like he wanted to tear it apart. He looked over Bruce and Thor, and they both wore sad looks. He looked at Steve again, and saw him hold the Captain America pillow tightly to his chest and bury his face in it. That’s not to mention Natasha, who Tony’s mind insisted that right now she is Natalie.

“Is everyone, I don’t know, al-fucking-right?”

“We just miss the tower, Tony” Bruce said with a sigh.

Tony resisted the urge to call bullshit on that, so he sat next to the Captain and sighed heavily. He saw Steve’s arms get covered in goose bumps and how his body was shuddering. It was a cold night, and Tony remembers the many feedbacks JARVIS supplied of how Steve’s panic attacks and mood swings seemed to increase whenever the temperature decreased.

_“He put the plane down. Under the cold, freezing water. You know why he did it?” Peggy asked, her voice heavy and soft like the dark chocolate he was nibbling on._

_“Why?” Tony would ask with awe and wonder in his eyes as his fingers curled around the Captain America pillow he cuddled._

_“Because he’s always been brave. Even far before the serum, he’s always been Steve Rogers. Brave and righteous and noble. His heart filled with nothing but determination and love for people. He was—”_

_“Not weak. He was not a sick excuse of the man that you are,” Howard interrupted as he leaned on the doorframe of his son’s room._

_“Howard. Leave. I’m telling him a bedtime story.”_

_“That’s for kids, Peggy.”_

_“He’s only eight, Howard! Leave!”_

“Tony?” Steve called out for the fifth time before Tony snapped out of the memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waved a hand. “You’re cold.”

“It is a cold night out here,” Steve let out a shaky sigh. “Not as cold as it used to be back then. I mean, it’s October. Back then, October used to be freezing cold.”

“Duh. You used to be not a pile of walking muscle. And global warming wasn't one of Earth’s biggest issues right after aliens.”

“Oh god, that’s true. I used to get sick every two business days. Every winter I’d just pray I wouldn’t slip into a coma or get too sick that I die.”

“Welp, thank god for serums and vaccines. I’ll go get you another blanket before you turn into an actual Capsicle,” Tony said with a pat to the Captain’s shoulder. He knew that somewhere in the house, they had an electric-blanket that he wouldn’t sleep without during his teenage years. He tries to recall where he had kept the blanket. In his old room? He looks there, and he can’t find it. He manages to find way too many suicide notes, however, and he lets out a bitter laugh as he chucks them away carelessly. He looks in the guest rooms, and he can’t find it. He enters his parents’ room, whispers a declaration that it’s not here before he could even make it past the doorframe, and walks out with a headache. His brain can’t recall where he has kept it. The last time he has used it was when he was fourteen, the night before Christmas, and—

“Oh. Oh god.”

He remembers now. _He had come back from boarding school for the holidays. He was cold. He was sleeping in his father’s study room. Howard had come in his room and told him to wait for him there, so Tony clutched at his heat-blanket and his shaking frame walked down the steps to the study room with hope that his father won’t be so brutal. His throat was yet to recover from the last time he had been... given the time and the attention of his father’s, which was five days, sixteen hours, and thirty-five minutes ago. Yes, he would calculate it._

Tony wanted to run back to the roof, but then he would be sat next to Steve’s cold and shaking frame. He would be sat next to a man reliving his nightmare over and over again through the night. And if Tony could give a home to the American hero, he sure as hell could make the effort of getting him the damn blanket.

Every step towards that room physically hurt, but he was too angry at himself to let a room scare him so much. So he bolted in and felt the shrapnels tug at his flesh. He walked around slowly and carefully, looked around, and surely found the blanket over the antique chair his father favored so much.

_Gosh, isn’t everything so good between us when you’re like this?_

Tony stomped his way to the chair and snatched the blanket furiously. It hit against a book by the bookshelf and Tony cursed under his breath as he picked it up. It was a Russian book, and he thought that perhaps he could show it to Natasha, until he read the English translation of the synopsis and decided that she wouldn't like it all that much. He was about to put it back in place, when a piece of cardboard jutted out of the empty space.

"Huh," he whispered to himself as he took one book after the other out of the shelf and realized that a box was hidden in there. He took it out, placed it on the floor, opened it, and was met with a bunch of tapes stacked perfectly inside. He was about to close the box and put it right where he found it. It was probably recordings of his father conducting experiments he could care less about. But a particular tape called out to him.

FOR HOWARD.

It was slightly smudged _because his tears had rolled off his cheeks and into the surface of where the ink out of the marker was yet to dry._ He shuddered and quickly closed the box and carried it with the blanket to his room. He would have to go through these tapes later, _and eventually burn them,_ he thought.

* * *

"Here. It's an electric heating blanket," he gingerly wrapped it around the Captain. His hands were shaking, and Steve didn't have to strain his eyes to see it.

"Thank y—"

"Don't." It came out harsher than Tony intended for it to be, but Steve wasn't about to point that out. He did see that blanket in Howard's study room, and he knew that Tony must have gone through much internal turmoil just so he won't turn into a "Capsicle."

"Tis such a beautiful night. Look at all the stars!" Thor spoke in awe.

Tony made the mistake of looking up at the sky full of stars. He could hear the Avengers marvel at the sight, and his head lowered in shame and hatred for himself.

 _Even the damn sky. Is there anything you don't have an issue with?_ His mind taunted.

He shut his eyes tightly. In his mind, he was kicking himself for being so vulnerable, and he looked up again. He could see the stars alright, he just couldn't admit that there was much beauty to them, for all he could see was _the ship, the Chitauri army, the nuke explode, pieces of his suit detach and float around him, the failed call..._

"Tony? You wanna share the blanket?" Steve suggested upon noticing the engineer shivering violently.

Tony lowered his head slowly so the tears don't give him away, and he sniffled ever so slightly. He nodded solely to make out his vulnerable state to be due to the cold, biting weather. Steve scooted closer to him and wrapped the blanket around the both of them. He smiled fondly at the brunet who grabbed at the blanket and threw a smile the Captain's way.

Tony resisted the urge to nuzzle his head against the man's chest, and even if he didn't, he was sure that his brain was bound to mess with him in more ways than one by reminding him of how much larger Steve is compared to him, how much stronger, how much faster, how he could pin Tony down, how he could be brutal, how he could—

A thunder bolt of lightning had him gasp and jump in place. Thankfully, no one noticed. Apparently, Thor was showing off his rightful title as God of Thunder, and the Avengers laughed when Clint distracted the God and ruined his lightning pattern, to which a bolt of lightning electrocuted the archer slightly and Thor laughed in delight.

Thor then went on to talk about space and all the knowledge he has retained from his many adventures around different realms. Natasha found the topic interesting enough to be taking notes on, and Steve, Bruce, and Clint asked many question. Tony was just trying not to have yet another panic attack. He came out of his trance when Thor mentioned him.

"—they even know of the Man of Iron, and they refer to him as Earth's Defender."

"What? Who?" Tony asked with furrowed brows.

"The people of Alfheim. They refer to you as Earth's Defender," Thor smiled, but Tony's panic was escalating.

"Who are they? How do they know me?"

"My friend, they know you for putting a stop to the Chitauries. The army has been terrorizing tribes of different realms for centuries, and the people of Alfheim fell victims to them, but no more! All thanks to your act of bravery, which they now tell stories of!"

Tony took time to progress that. He was flattered, but he felt his shoulders sag under the weight of his shame and self-hatred. Here he was trying not to panic over simply stargazing and trying not to lose his mind over recalling childhood memories. 

_Defender? You couldn't even defend yourself against simple men,_ his mind taunted.

"That's flattering. Really, it is. But I'm no defender. I'm just a man in a can," Tony said with a shrug.

"Man in a can you are, but surely a mighty one," Thor crouched and landed a heavy, gentle hand on the brunet's shoulder as he smiled softly. "And in more ways than one."

* * *

The Avengers slept on the roof for the night. Tony laid perfectly still until he made sure each one of them was fast asleep, and tiptoed his way back inside the mansion, into his room to get the box of tapes, and down again to the living room where the tape player and fire place were.

He opened the box slowly. A voice in his head urged him to burn the entire box right away instead of watching any of it. He didn't know what to expect out of any of them, and he hoped they were nothing more but boring documentaries of Howard's experiments.

He toyed around with a tape in hand.

FOR HOWARD. Smudged. Old. Dusty, except for a few fingerprints leaving their mark against the dust and— _wait. Fingerprints. Why are there fingerprints?_

Tony looks inside the box again and notices more fingerprints leaving a clean mark against the dusty rectangular compact boxes. For a solid minute, his body breaks in cold sweat. He reaches for his Stark Smart Phone, and scans over the fingerprints.

 **IDENTIFIED:** _**Natasha Romanova; SHEILD Agent**_

His hands shake. His skull feels like its been filled with wool. He reaches for another tape.

 **IDENTIFIED:** _**Clint Barton; SHEILD Agent**_

Another tape.

 **IDENTIFIED:** _**Bruce Banner; Biochemist, Nuclear physicist, Physician, Professor, Scientist**_

Another tape.

 **IDENTIFIED:** _**Thor Odinson; Asgard's God of Thunder**_

The first tape he has picked up. FOR HOWARD.

 **IDENTIFIED:** _**Steve Rogers; Captain America**_

Tony looked over at the entrance of the living room, where he heard a heavy sigh escape pink lips that wore a frown and saw blue eyes clad in a sheen that ached his troubled heart. 

"Hey, Tony? I think we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter might come a bit late. i have everything planned out, but im struggling to make the ideas flow well. feedback is appreciated and very much needed. please let me know of things you would like to see, and maybe they'll flow well enough with what im trying to accomplish! 
> 
> im also trying so hard to incorporate fluff here and there, but i feel like it's not working out..? i don't know? please let me know of your thoughts.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! :')


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> although i don't receive that many comments, i can't express just how happy i was to read that you guys think this is well written :') thank you and i hope i don't disappoint you. 
> 
> your feedback is always appreciated. enjoy reading!!!

Sat on antique satin embroidered with patterns of gold, he felt no comfort. The chunks of rubies decorating the coffee table before him held no beauty, just an angry shade of crimson red. _Or were they chunks of blood?_ He couldn’t tell. The fake sunflowers decorating the walls by the TV were warning signs—yellow all around, a standing black void in the middle—like the many CAUTION signs around the weaponry manufacturing company he once owned. The TV itself a blank, black screen. Grand and big as it is, it made his reflection look small; insignificant. 

_Is this luxury?_

He hadn’t meant to ask it out loud, but he wasn’t surprised to hear the Captain, now sat next to him, reply with “I’m not sure what you’re talking about here, Tony.”

“Why did you watch them?” 

“I didn’t know what they were gonna be. You told me I could take a look around.” 

He nods to himself. Of course, it would be his own words and ideas that end up biting him, no matter the good he thinks he’s serving. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the Captain fiddle with his hands nervously. “Don’t watch them. I don’t think... I don’t think it would be good for you to.” 

“Why?” And here it was. The _Why?_ that has been on the tip of his tongue for the past few days whenever he looked at their sad, concerned faces. But now he thinks he knows what these faces wore. It wasn’t sadness or concern; it was something he despised. Something he warned Pepper and Rhodey against giving him whenever they saw through him. Something that Jarvis always had in his eyes, and Tony would smile and resist the urge of telling him how much the look on the British man’s face made him want to die in gruesome ways. 

It was pity, and he had to watch the tapes to confirm it. 

“I wanna know what’s in them. I wanna know how much you know.” 

“We know enough,” Steve put a hand over the tape in Tony’s hand. “Please don’t do this to yourself.” 

“Shut up. Just... leave me the fuck alone. I need to know.” 

He inserted the tape but didn’t press the PLAY button, which suddenly looked as if it were challenging him. 

“Leave,” he whispered the command. 

“No. If you’re gonna watch them, at least let me be here. With you. I already know what to expect.” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Anger. Crimson red chunks of rubies. Cold, biting weather. “I need you to leave, Captain.” 

“Tony. Please. You can’t be alone while watching them.” 

“I was alone living them. Leave.” 

The phrase was simple enough to knock the air out of Steve’s chest. He hadn’t realized how much he has subconsciously dissociated the kid on screen from the man in front of him. History doesn’t repeat itself, it rhymes; which is how it rings a bell in Steve’s mind of how much of the same mistake he keeps sketching different versions of. Page three of Tony’s file was screaming at him the words POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER just as much as the tape screamed FOR HOWARD, and yet he didn’t quite wrap his head around the extent of it all. 

“Please?” 

“Captain America,” Tony whispered. The begs weren’t said, but they were heard, nevertheless. “Leave.” 

_Captain America._ Steve understood. 

“Should I call someone else? Please let me call someone else. Please.” 

“No. Leave.” 

Steve stood to leave, but not before saying “I’m sorry, Tony.” 

* * *

They were holding their breaths as they stood still in the hallways, just in case. They could hear the audio, but not any other sound. Natasha peeked her head and saw the back of Tony’s head as still as ever, and she wondered if the man was still breathing. He was watching the tape of his fourteen-year-old self get beat to a literal pulp. They could hear the painful audio. 

_“S-Sir. I ca-can't. My b-bones are b-broken.”_

_“Get up, boy. Come on.”_

_Whimpers and pained groans escaped him as he got up on his sprained ankle, the other broken and barely holding him up. His whimpers turn to screams and defeated cries when his father punches him to the ground._

_“Get up.”_

_He gets up. He gets put down._

_“Get up.”_

_He gets up. He gets put down._

_“Get up.”_

_He gets up. He gets put down._

_It’s a vicious cycle until the teenager is barely conscious, his face barely recognized under all the blood and bruises, and a sadistic laugh escapes the older man in frame._

Natasha sees as Tony takes the tape out of the player, throws it into the lit fireplace, and inserts another one. She can’t see his face, but when he sits down, he's slow and careful and he keeps his head low. It’s enough to tell her of what’s going on in his head. 

He feels _his_ presence, and he’s petrified. 

He goes through all the tapes, and the mansion starts smelling of burnt plastic. They are still in place by the entrance of the living room. They peek their heads and watch as the man stares into the big, black screen. A few minutes pass by with him just sat like that, before Natasha takes the first step into approaching the engineer. They don’t bother hiding or pretending they weren’t looking out for him, and he doesn’t seem to be here to mind. His eyes are as unseeing as they were in the last two minutes of the tape during the night before Christmas, and of the tape where Peggy promised to rush Howard’s work contract. 

“Tony?” 

“Yes?” He answers, but his eyes don’t look at the Russian redhead. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re not,” Bruce says, his voice soft and breathless. 

“I am.” 

“Tony. You don’t have to do this,” Steve tells him. Tony doesn’t respond. 

“Can you please talk to us?” Clint says. 

“Man of Iron, I don’t recommend you be left alone at such time. Allow us to share your pain,” Thor says. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Tony—” 

“No. Leave.” 

“Tony, just—” 

“No. Leave.” 

They don’t listen, and neither does Tony. Their voices mold into something he can’t comprehend. All he can think of is running away and leaving everything behind. He can’t live with this: the knowing. His brain refuses to believe that they know him for what he truly is. 

Weak, vulnerable, defenseless. 

Their looks of pity throughout the days confirm it all. No wonder why they have been acknowledging him and interacting with him. They’ve been friendly. They’ve been talking in hushed voices and keeping him company. This wasn’t the case back in the tower—back before they knew what they now do. Back then, it was _“Tony, do you ever shut the fuck up?”, “Can you let go of your ego for one goddamn minute?”, “You’ve been around machines too damn much, you became one!”, “Stark, you meddle with what you have no knowledge of. You define arrogance.”,_ and _“Tony, you’re so careless and selfish. Quit it.”_

They’re treating him differently not out of respect, but out of pity. And Tony wants to burn and melt as easy as the smothered tapes. 

“Tony, please talk to us?” Steve says. Tony turns his head to look at him, and he takes his precious time to see him. 

Furrowed brows, baby blue eyes that carry _pity, pity, pity oh my fucking god stop looking at me like this,_ and lips that tremble slightly at the sight of the big brown eyes before him. 

“Tony? Please say something. You’re worrying us.” 

The genius’ eyebrows raise in amusement before he lets out a breathless laugh. Is that what it takes to be someone worth worrying over? Someone worth looking out for? Someone to talk to in a friendly manner and smile in the face of? 

“Tony?” 

“Shut up. Just... shut up. All of you. And leave me alone. God, is that too much to ask for?” 

“You shouldn’t be left alone like this,” Natasha whispered, which forced a laugh out of his chest. 

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious,” he said in between laughs. “Have I ever told you that in my mind you are always Natalie? I used to feel so bad for thinking that, but now I'm patting my intuition’s back.” 

“What does that mean?” Her voice is soft and fond. It makes him want to scrape his ears off. 

“It means I want all of you to just leave me the fuck alone. What do you even want?” 

“We just wanna make sure you’re okay,” Steve says. 

“I am. Now leave me alone.” 

“You’re not,” Bruce whispers. 

It’s been years of dictating how he feels and how he should react. It’s been years of smiling and raising his chin up high so Jarvis wouldn’t waste his nights looking after him instead of sleeping, and so Aunt Peggy wouldn’t mess up her work schedule just to pay him visits. It’s been years of trapping tears in his eyes so his father wouldn’t drill the words _“Stark men are made of iron!”_ in his head. It’s been years of keeping it together and of mastering the arts of doing so. 

The painful reminders of said years stood right above the fireplace where the tapes burned. They were pictures of his parents, young and happy. He could easily admit that he loathes his father, but saying so about his mother felt heavy on his heart. He couldn’t say he loved her, either. After all, you can’t love someone you don’t know. He remembers the last time he has seen her, just a few hours before she left off on the trip to death alongside her husband. 

_“Mom, do you have to go?” He asked her after she had finished playing the piano. He always stood by the doorframe of the lounging area where the piano was to hear her sing and play the instrument but was too shy to ask her to teach him._

_“Sweetheart, it’s for business. But don’t you be sad. When we come back, I’ll take you with me to Italy for a few days. It’s a piece of heaven. Bellissima!”_

_“Mi prometti?” He whispered._

_“Te lo prometto, amore mio.”_

_She promised, and he never got to visit Italy._

He stood in front of the fireplace; the team of superheroes left sat behind him, their calls for him left ignored. 

He grabbed the framed picture of his father. Young, smiling, healthy, and rich. He threw it carelessly on the floor and relished in the sound of hearing the glass break. He grabbed another picture and noticed how his hands were the steadiest they’ve ever been since he got here. He smiled, but not before he had broken another picture frame. And another. And another. And another... 

Once the wall was devoid of any pictures, he tilted his head in appreciation of the sight. The glass shards decorated the floor, the pictures laid ripped and wrinkled alongside the sharp shards, but he was still not as satisfied. His hands weren’t shaking, they were itching for more of this. 

He turned around and saw the superheroes hold various looks on their faces, but the look of pity was still there. He avoided looking at them as he flipped the coffee table. Somehow, the rubies looked much prettier shattered and scattered around the table rather than sticking to it. He wondered if he would look just as pretty with blood scattered around him in the same fashion. 

He grabbed a large glass shard to rip the satin off the antique furniture. A surge of energy shot through his body with every piece of this place that he ruined. A part of him liked to believe that he was avenging his childhood and youth, that he was ruining this place just as much as it has ruined him. 

He broke all the vases and TV screens, tore through furniture and broke its wood, flipped all the chairs and tables, ignored the calls of the team, and walked right past them when they tried to stop him from tearing through the wallpapers or punching through the walls. He ran to the lounging area to do just the same thing around the room. It was not enough to sate the mania coursing through his veins, and his body shook with the need to do more. He ran up the long spiral of stairs and broke the door of his childhood room as he lunged at it with all his might. The room that he has once asked the team not to enter no matter what the circumstances are, he has welcomed them to walk through as they saw him tear through the mattress, the pillows, the sheets. He opened the closet and ripped all the Captain America posters he has kept with his hands and teeth. Not once did it cross his mind that the Captain was right there watching. He simply didn’t care. 

“Tony? You’re hurting yourself. Tony, your hand is bleeding!” Clint tried to get a hold on his wrists to stop the manic man from tearing through his room’s wallpapers with the shard of glass held tightly in his grip. Tony ignored him as his wide and frantic eyes looked for more, more, more. The siren in his mind was loud, maddening, deafening. And yet, it was music to his ears. He pushed the archer away as he marched to his parents’ room. He tore the mattress, pillows, the wallpaper, broke the vases, the mirrors, the doors of the closets and dressers. Before he left, he looked at his bloody hands, and wiped them off against his father's clothes that were in the closet.

The Avengers watched in horror as their consultant walked from one room to another breaking and tearing his way through it. They have never seen him like this before, and it unsettled all of them to no end. Bruce’s skin wore a green tint. The last time Natasha’s face was this distressed was during her days in the Red Room. Steve’s heart was clenching in fear and guilt. Clint was crying silently. Thor’s face was solemn and as collected as ever—he has seen this before, and he still didn’t know what to do. 

The last room Tony walked into was the study room, and the team anticipated hearing glass break and shatter, seeing torn furniture and wallpapers, and seeing the perfectly stacked books fly out of place. But they learned Tony Stark is spontaneous and unexpected in every mood, for the genius opened the door to the room just to stand there heaving with exhaustion. He took one, two, three steps in, and fell to his knees as he screamed. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed—loud, maddening, deafening. Thor had to hold Bruce in his arms with whispers of the sun going low to keep him from hulking out, but it wasn’t the Hulk’s voice that cried out “Tony’s hurt. He’s so hurt.” 

They watched helplessly as Tony continued screaming until his voice grew hoarse. Even then, he didn’t really stop. He only stopped when purple veins started forming patterns along his neck, and his arc reactor dimmed ever so slightly. He clawed at his chest as he coughed and wheezed. Pain surged through his chest and he felt the shrapnels tear at his flesh. 

Even his body, his broken soul’s home, was tearing him apart. Somewhere in the back of his mind amid all the screams and sirens, he wondered if he’ll ever find a home. 

_When am I gonna find a home? When am I gonna find a home? When am I gonna find a home?_

He was screaming the words out, and they tore right through Steve’s heart. The man who gave them all a home was struggling to find one. He has designed each one of their floors to cater to their needs and wants, to be a haven they can all heal and grow and bond in. He stayed hidden floors upon floors under them in a lab. They never truly bothered to reach out to him. They always thought he was too much of a selfish snob who wouldn’t want to waste his precious time with them. 

But he had looked so happy playing chess with them, even if the matches got redundant. He had looked so happy watching Thor and Bruce fall victims under Clint and Natasha’s prank. He had looked so happy whenever Steve interacted with him and threw nothing but smiles the Captain’s way to prove it. 

Tony’s coughs and wheezes escalated, and he found himself leaning on his hands despite his kneeling position. His body was getting weaker and weaker. He was pretty sure he was going to lose consciousness any minute now and braced himself for it, but not before he crawled his way towards the chair he has been forced on his knees in front of countless nights, and with the glass shard he held onto in his palm, he put all his remaining energy to tear through it and pull at its wool and fabric.

Something in the back of his mind shifted to the forefront, and its voice increased in volume. He chased after it, and found strength in wearing its collar as he obeyed the command it gave, but not before hearing screams and shouts for his name as he cut through his palms and watched the blood pour over the expensive, soft fabric. The white wool looked much prettier as it absorbed his shade of crimson red, and the gold frame of the seat sure did look elegant, but with droplets of blood cascading down its curves, it looked extravagant. 

The mania was finally sated; his mind buzzed in satisfaction. And as he saw blurs of figures approach him with their hands reaching out, he made the effort to smile at them before his eyes shut and his lips declared: “This is luxury.” 

* * *

Tony scared the team. Not in the way that he screamed or tore through the mansion room by room, but in the way that he woke up the next day and moaned in pleasure when his cup of coffee came out exactly how he liked it. He scared them in the way that he called an angry Pepper and cooed at her with nicknames reserved only for her and the promise of getting her a platter of sushi from her favorite place if she takes on the upcoming gala instead of him. He scared them in the way that he fired back with snarky and sarcastic comments to everything Fury said over the phone. He scared them when he shook his head at Clint taking the driver’s seat. “Nah-uh, sweetheart. I’m driving.” 

“But Tony—” 

“Nope. Hop out, Legolas.” 

He blasted AC/DC and hummed along to the tunes. He stopped by a sushi restaurant and sure enough got Pepper a platter of her favorite food. They all exchanged looks of confusion and discomfort, except for Natasha who has seen this before. Still, it raised a question they didn’t quite know the answer of. Is this how Tony Stark... is? 

Somehow, paparazzi caught onto them and chased after the car. Tony noticed. “Might as well get it over with,” he muttered under his breath and pulled out his signature obnoxious sunglasses from his jacket when the cameras approached as he stopped at a red traffic light. 

“Ayo, Stark! What do you have to say to the rumors claiming SI is in bed with the government?” 

“Pretty sure I politely told the government to go fuck itself just a few weeks ago. Besides, Iron Man is not SI’s property, just mine.” 

“What about Tony Stark? Is Tony Stark anyone’s property?” Laughter erupted from the crowd hiding behind cameras, and Tony joined in. “Nope. Too busy these days. Playboy’s put on pause.” 

“You still drinking, right? I mean, we saw the pictures. What happened to you publicly stating that you’re quitting that stuff for good?” 

“Meh. Trial and error,” he replied coolly with a shrug, and Steve wondered if anything was phasing the driver in the moment. 

“What do you have to say about being labelled the Avengers’ whore?” 

“I’d say sugar daddy sounds more fitting.” The Avengers exchanged looks of amusement. Tony Stark surely does know how to handle the media. It’s his superpower. 

“Mr. Stark, would you say you need the media’s attention more than ever right now with the government being angry at you? I mean, we’re connected. You need us, admit it.” 

“Connected? Uh, nope.” 

“Hey, Stark? Why don’t you be a nice rich boy and give us a couple of dollars to get food. We’ve been camping out here waiting for you to make your way to the tower. We’re kinda hungry.” A few agreements erupted from the crowd, and he could hear the Avengers curse under their breaths for this to be over. Luckily, the green light signal was only a few seconds away from going off. 

“Awh, I can tell,” Tony exaggerated a pout. “You know how I can tell? ‘Cause we’re connected.” With a smirk, he sped off past them to the tower, and he can’t deny it warmed his heart to hear the team laugh at his silly joke. 

* * *

“My babies. My children. My loves. I missed you all so so much,” Tony said when he pulled into the tower’s garage and saw his collection of expensive cars. 

“Welcome home, Sir. You were greatly missed,” JARVIS’ voice chimed in. His tone was as fond as ever, and the team had to remind themselves that the man from the tapes won’t walk in on them any minute now. 

“I missed you too, Jay,” he smiled, and the team couldn’t help but smile too when Tony’s bots walked in to greet their creator. Dum-E beeped and twirled around on its wheels as soon as the engineer parked the car and got out of it. YOU and Butterfingers were racing far behind and occasionally tugged at each other’s arms so the other would stumble. 

“Hey! No fighting! YOU, quit bothering your baby brother.” He jumped out of the car and walked out to the bots, who settled their differences and excessive excitement in their rush to hug the engineer. Dum-E whirred and clasped the handles of its arms in a pattern that Tony somehow understood, and he giggled when the handles clasped against his cheek—mimicking a kiss. 

The team looked on the scene with a mix of fondness, amusement, and sadness. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Tony’s bots were ultimately created to fill a void in his teenage years and to give him what he has been robbed off. The bots were childish, silly, and friendly; they were everything Tony needed, but didn’t have. 

“They have been giving the SHEILD agents a hard time whenever they were around, but to make up for it, they have cleaned the lab for you,” JARVIS said. 

“Uh-oh...” Tony muttered. 

“Don’t worry. I have been their guide and they did quite a good job. You’ll be impressed to know that Dum-E finally knows the difference between screwdrivers and wrenches.” 

Jarvis’ voice and Tony’s decreased in volume as the man walked off to his lab with his bots tagging along. The team stood there in the garage awkwardly, before Natasha said, “We need to sit him down and talk to him. He’s not doing well.” 

“Ay. He’s deflecting. I’ve seen Loki like this, and the outcome is never lovely,” Thor said. 

Steve tuned the team out as they talked and discussed their strategy on how they’re gonna approach the genius. He felt heartbroken, distraught, and guilty. It felt as though he could’ve stopped the abuse Tony went through. It felt as though he could’ve done something. 

Too late. Steve has always been too late. Even when he had grown to take a liking of the man, he’s been too late to let him know. He’s aware that any act of expressing his feelings is bound to come out as an act of pity and sympathy, and although he did feel sympathetic, he did not want those feelings to mold into one. Tony has built high walls off an egoistic persona, which is enough to indicate that he is not waiting on anybody to pity him. It sounds as awful as it is knowing they didn’t become so friendly to the engineer until they have watched the tapes, and it makes him wince to recall how unsettled and confused Tony was by their respectful acknowledgement of him—how he was constantly asking if they were alright—because this was the first time they have been included with him in the same setting without it ending in arguments and hurtful words thrown around ( _mostly towards Tony_ , Steve realizes with a clench to his heart). 

He snaps out of his thoughts when the team urges him to follow him to the communal area to unwind. When they make it up there, Pepper greets them and continues chewing on sushi in the kitchen and scolding Tony in between bites. 

“—this has always been important. Jesus, Tony. You’re a goddamn businessman—” 

“Which is why I’m gonna be meeting up with the representatives of the British AI Empire instead. You can go to the gala while I take care of—” 

“Tony. The gala is important. You need the PR now more than ever. Come on, you know it...” 

Tony shook his head and sipped on his coffee. “Nope. British AI Empire. That’s it.” 

“You and your British people...” Pepper mutters under her breath. Tony takes a quick glance towards the Captain who has been watching intently and lowers his gaze when they accidentally make eye contact. “At least go and just make a little speech? Just for five minutes?” 

“No. Quit talking about it, I’ve already made my mind.” 

“You give me headaches. Have I ever told you that? Because it’s true. And a platter of sushi doesn’t really make it go away,” Pepper glares at him, and he fakes a pout. “Fuck you, Tony,” she says while rolling her eyes. 

“Love you too, Peps,” he says as he rounds the table to kiss the CEO on her cheek, to which she rolls her eyes again, but with a smile this time around. 

Steve’s heart feels heavy. He craves this. He craves what’s more than this. 

“Tony? Can we talk to you?” Natasha says before the engineer makes an escape yet again. 

“No can do, Tasha. I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow.” 

“This is important, too.” 

“I’m sure it is, love. But priorities, innit?” He fakes a British accent that comes out sounding much like _hers_ , and Steve can now see that Peggy was indeed a much needed influence.

* * *

A few days pass by. They don’t see the genius around, not even in the communal kitchen brewing gallons of coffee. Fury sets up meetings and draws great emphasis on Stark’s presence, but they all fall on deaf ears. They go to his lab. The glass doors are an opaque black, the override codes don’t work, and the vents to the lab are impossible to penetrate. Mjolnir and Hulk’s rage were not enough to even dent the doors, and they wondered if Tony was even in there. 

“He is alive and well. You may retreat to your daily activities now,” JARVIS tells them when they ask. He sounds bitter and cold. 

“JARVIS, we just wanna—” 

“Did I stutter, Captain?” 

“It’s not a good sign when even the damn AI is mad,” Clint says. 

“Excellent observation, Agent. Now kindly show yourselves back to your floors. I will happily assist you with whatever you may need then.” 

They sigh, and at some point, Clint frustratingly yells a message, “Fine! Be like that! But you should know better. This is not some problem you can throw dollar signs at and watch as it magically gets fixed.” 

“Clint. Shut up,” Bruce says through gritted teeth. 

“Why? We’re trying to fucking help and he—” 

Clint cut himself short when Colonel James Rhodes walked in with a box of doughnuts in hand. “Hey guys,” he greeted them, but his raised brow showed his confusion. “So he’s locked himself in, huh?” 

“Yeah. We’re worried,” Steve said. 

“That’s a first,” Rhodey muttered under his breath, but they all heard him just fine. He walked to the smart pad by the lab’s door and punched in a code that granted him easy access, but before he walked in, Steve landed a firm hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “Please let him know I need to talk to him.” 

Rhodey nodded once, then stepped in and the doors shut right after. The rest of the team sighed in defeat and left off to their floors. 

* * *

Rhodey finds him tinkering about in a corner, but as soon as Tony lands eyes on his best friend, he makes a run towards the man and hugs him tightly. Rhodey loves those hugs because they give the shorter man in his arms comfort and stability. Tony has always sought refuge in them ever since the first time he has experienced their warmth. 

_“Hey, Stark kid. You alright?” James tried to shake the fourteen-year-old out of his sleep, but a loud sob escaped his lips instead. Truth be told he didn’t really fancy having Anthony Stark be his roommate, especially when the first time they interacted James was only trying to do well by the lost kid and showing him around the campus only to be told “I can figure things out quick. I'm a fucking genius. I don’t need your ass following me around,” to which he replied “Y’all Stark people are fucking animals. The least you could’ve said was a thank you or something, you fucking snob.”_

_But they’re roommates, and James walked out of the students’ affairs office fuming when they told him he can’t change his room. The last thing he needed was to not be able to sleep because the young rich kid misses his golden bed._

_At first, James muttered a “Fuck it” and put a pillow above his head as he tried to sleep, but Stark’s sobs didn’t stop, and his heart was breaking over the sounds. He got up and sat by the edge of his roommate’s bed. “Hey, man. Wake up. Come on...” He kept trying to shake the boy out of his sleep, and when he finally woke up, Tony scurried away into the corner of the bed and hugged his knees to his chest. James has never been more confused by the sight. Was this the same boy who walked around the campus like he was god’s gift to Earth?_

_“Hey, you’re alright. It was just a nightmare.” Tony couldn’t quite hear him in his state of panic and unease. All he knew was that his chest was in pain, he couldn’t breathe or see an escape. James watched on helplessly as the boy wheezed and heaved._

_“Bro, breathe. Can you even hear me?”_

_Tony tried to listen. He really did. But all he could do was look at the boy in front of him with frantic, pleading eyes. Those chocolate brown eyes were filled with heavy sorrow and pain, and James felt the weight of it all land on his shoulders. It was right then and there that he didn’t see the Stark kid, the snobby roommate, or the egoistic son of Howard Stark. All he saw was those chocolate brown eyes and the tears that poured out of them. It came naturally to him to get closer to the panicking boy and pull him into his arms. Tony tensed and tried to push at the boy’s chest, but he shushed him and said “Boy, just accept the damn hug. We’ll all be happy.”_

_And that was it. That’s what got to Tony. There was no pity, just compassion and putting him under the reality of the situation. Because Tony did need hug, and that’s what he got. And James’ arms weren’t suffocating, they were just tight and warm, and he fell asleep just fine._

_The next morning, James didn’t treat him any differently. He went about his day and occasionally cursed at him when Tony would litter around their room. He didn’t change his ways with him, didn’t treat him like he was made of glass, or look down on him. He was still James Rhodes, and Tony was still Tony fucking Stark._

_But at night, James would keep his lamp turned on. He would plug in one earbud instead of two in his ears, hum out a soothing tune loud enough for Tony to hear, and he would test out silly knock-knock jokes on the genius._

_Tony noticed it all, and therefore James Rhodes became Rhodey: his best friend and quite literally his knight in shining armor._

“They know. About Howard,” Tony whispered against the colonel’s shoulder. 

“How much do they know?” 

“They know enough.” 

Rhodey took the time to process the situation at hand and found himself shaking his head in disbelief. “Fury done did fucked up putting you back in that mansion.” 

“You bet,” Tony said as he stepped out of his best friend’s embrace. “I missed you.” 

“As you should, Tin Man,” he ruffled Tony’s hair playfully and heard a giggle. “I missed you too. And I got you doughnuts.” 

“Strawberry flavored frosting and sprinkles?” Tony looked up innocently at his best friend as if he was stood high on a pedestal. 

“Who the fuck do I look like?” 

“Like the best person on planet Earth. In all realms. In the entire galaxy—hell, the universe!” He went over to the table where the box of doughnuts was and filled his mouth with fried dough and strawberry frosting goodness. “God do I love you.” 

“I know you do,” Rhodey said casually as he looked around the lab. It was the mess he has grown used to seeing whenever Tony tinkered too much. The holograms and tabs open were of various projects revolving around the Avengers’ suits and weaponries. There were far too many versions of them and too many updates. Even War Machine had his fair share of those. Not one tab or hologram displayed anything Iron Man related, and Rhodey instantly understood why. 

“Steve looks like a beaten puppy. He told me he needs to talk to you,” he said as he toyed around with a screwdriver. 

“Yeah, I kinda put on a real show for them. Had one of my mental breakdowns or whatever those are called, and I may or may not have broken everything in that place,” Tony said coolly as he bit down on another doughnut. 

Rhodey kept eying his friend and saw right through him. “You need to fix your arc reactor.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waved a hand. “Later.” 

“No. Now. Fix it. Or I'll tell someone to.” 

Tony raised a brow, but before he could speak, Rhodey said “Do you think I don’t know you? Do you really think I don’t know what any of this is?” He shuffled through the holograms with his eyes still fixed on the engineer. “I’m not gonna watch you kill yourself, Tony. I’m not gonna even allow you to.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Tony smirked. 

“Don’t. Don’t talk to me like that. I’m your family, and you are mine. I’m not gonna fucking watch my family die. If not for you, then don’t do this to me. Don’t take my family away from me. You have no right.” 

“Yeah, well, your family’s tired,” Tony finished his doughnut and wiped at his hands and mouth. “Nothing’s really working out in my favor, y’know? Everything’s pointless.” 

“So you’re just gonna resort to fucking dying?” 

“Pretty much,” Tony said casually. It worried Rhodey beyond belief. “I can’t live like this. I can’t, Rhodey. What am I even living for? All I've been doing my whole life is just taking whatever people give me, whether that be bad or worse. I do nothing but go on my days trying to prove people wrong, but even that I no longer have the energy for. I just let it happen. Because I'm tired. Because this is no way to fucking live. And no one wants to hear the rich kid’s sob story.” 

“This is about them knowing, isn’t it?” Rhodey whispers. 

“Oh, honey,” he taps against his arc reactor. “I’ve always been suicidal. You just confused it for being Tony Stark.” 

* * *

Rhodey gave the Avengers his code of access to the lab. Although he was staying around in the tower to keep a close eye on his friend, he knew that the genius is as spontaneous as ever, and if Rhodey isn’t fast enough, surely someone else would be. He also told Bruce of Tony’s condition, and with the help of JARVIS, they came to the conclusion that Tony’s suffering palladium poisoning. “Unfortunately, the only thing that’s keeping Sir alive is also killing him,” JARVIS said. 

Rhodey was smart enough to ask the team of how much they knew and was surprised to know that Steve and Thor know of the extent of the abuse he endured in Afghanistan as well as under Obadiah’s wing. 

“But he doesn’t know that we know,” Steve said. “Thor did... magic... and saw what Tony was recalling.” 

“Ay. I meant no harm, however. I only meant to heal his head and rid him of the memories for the moment.” 

Rhodey was conflicted and uncertain of what he should do. Every time he walked into the lab, he held his breath until he saw his best friend working and tinkering about. Alive and glowing blue. For the first time, he found himself at complete loss on how to deal with Tony, and he was Rhodey. Tony’s Rhodey. The guy who knew of the billionaire better than anyone else in the world. And when Rhodey admitted his worry over his best friend with no suggestions of a solution, the Avengers looked horrified. 

Days passed. Weeks passed. The genius was locked in his lab, and the only sentence JARVIS supplied them with was that he was alive and well. Steve took It upon himself to do something. 

He punched in Rhodey’s code ( _“For emergencies only. Don’t scare him off, Rogers!”_ Rhodey warned) and walked in through the dimly lit lab. He walked slowly and held his breath in fear of what he might find. He heard sniffs and choked sobs come from a lit corner of the room and saw Tony’s head buried in his hands with his knees pulled to chest. Dum-E was running its clasps through the crying man’s hair, and YOU rested its arm on Tony’s knee for comfort. Butterfingers' whirs were melodious, and Steve himself found the tune soothing. 

“Tony,” Steve whispered softly. The engineer flinched and looked up at the Captain. Bigger than him, stronger than him, faster than him, could easily pin him down... 

Steve read the room, and he attempted to make himself appear smaller by hunching his shoulders and sitting on the floor across the genius, who instantly felt much better when his neck didn’t have to crane to look at the Captain. 

“Hey, Cap,” he steadied his voice in an instant and wiped furiously at his eyes. “Guess who’s gonna be disabling Rhodey’s override code tonight...” 

“You really don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Do what, Captain?” 

“Hiding. Being alone. I know, okay? I know this is probably what you’re used to, but you can break that cycle. Today. Now.” 

Tony nodded once as he lowered his gaze, and Steve quickly realized his tone was authoritative and commanding. He sighed. “I’m gonna try again. I’m gonna keep trying.” 

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, okay? I know what I’m doing. And I'm doing fine,” he smiled, and Steve resisted the urge to deepen his frown. 

Now is his only chance. Now might be the only time he will ever get to say the right thing. He wanted to wipe the smile off Tony’s face, for it was never genuine. He might as well draw it on his armor’s faceplate. 

“You’re scared,” he started, and although the look on Tony's face morphed into something that tugged uncomfortably at his heart, he knew he can’t stop now. “You’re petrified. Because you think it’s gonna happen again. You think he’s right. You think they were all right. Not because they actually were, but because they have instilled it into your brain. That you’re worthless. That you’re no good. And he told you that you will never amount to the noble and righteous Captain America. But he was wrong. He was not a man made of iron. He was rotten. But you? You are worth the whole damn bunch. Your worth can’t be amounted to. You’re significant. To hell with noble and righteous. To hell with Captain America. Iron Man is who the world needs. But if you ask of who I need? I need Tony Stark. The man who I've been too busy calling an egoistic bastard that I didn’t realize my very own ego was keeping me from saying these words much earlier. 

And I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You deserved to hear these words much sooner. But I've been a fool. I've been waiting on the right time. I was being selfish. Thinking about what I need to say and how to say it and how it would make me feel. Always assumed you wouldn’t need these words. But somehow I've always been vocal and quick to condemn whatever action that came out of you that I simply didn’t understand. I knew it was wrong to compare you to him. I knew it was doing nobody no good to say those things and to ask you to be more of whatever the fuck he has convinced me he was, but I still did it. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved much better. I’m sorry. But please know this. Know that I need you so fucking much. You, Tony. Because... because I—” 

“Don’t,” Tony breathed out. He tried to make it sound harsh, but it came out pleading and desperate. “Don’t say it. I-I can’t take.” 

Steve nodded, and watched as the man tried not to crumble under his watch. His knuckles were white as they held on to the sleeves of his shirt. His eyes shut tightly, and he could hear him hiccup and struggle on chokes of his sobs. He was coming undone and breaking apart right before the Captain's eyes, and Steve rummaged through his mind for a way to help. 

_“Contrary to popular belief, Tony is human. I know, shocking!”_ Rhodey’s words from a meeting they had earlier rung through Steve’s ears. _“And humans sometimes need to be held. Now, we’re talking about a man who grew up rarely ever receiving that. Not to mention how rape victims often feel as though they are disgusting and undeserving of human touch. You have an unstable, touch-starved man living right under your floors. Put two and two together.”_

Steve slowly crawled towards Tony, slowly took his cold, trembling hands into his own, and slowly pulled him into his embrace. “Cry. Scream. Hit me if you’d like. Whatever it is you wanna do. You don’t have to be alone tonight.” 

“Whatever I wanna do?” Tony sniffled as he held onto Steve’s blue shirt. His eyes were big and innocent as he looked up to the Captain with tears pouring out of them, and Steve couldn’t shake the image he has seen of his tear stained face on a big screen gulping pills on straight vodka. His heart sank all the same when Tony whispered, “All I wanna do is kill myself.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! feedback is always appreciated and very much needed :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so hard to write. grab a box of tissues, you might need it... 
> 
> translation of the italian words will be in the end notes

There’s something beautiful about the way the daylight comes through the windows of Tony’s lab. It hits the scattered pieces of metal and Steve marvels at the sight of illuminations decorating the walls. He watches the bots rise from their sleep and tilt their heads ( _Arms, Steve. They’re robotic arms._ ) in an inquisitive manner upon the presence of the Captain. Dum-E tilted its arm down as if to look at its sleeping creator in the Captain’s arms and started whirring fondly before walking away towards the coffee machine. Steve’s brows were raised to the roof as he watched the bot prepare a cup of coffee and whir frustratingly when YOU accidentally poured motor oil in the mug. YOU lowered its arm in shame and whirred sadly, and Dum-E started the coffee machine again upon bringing another mug. 

Tony stirred in his arms, and Steve adjusted his body accordingly so that the brunet is still comfortable. He had debated carrying him to his bedroom, but then that would mean leaving Tony alone, and he genuinely didn’t believe it was a good idea to leave the man alone the next morning after he had cried himself to sleep. It also didn’t appear to him that it would be a good idea to stay with him in the bedroom after knowing everything that he now knows, so he resorted to serving as a pillow on the cold floors of the lab. 

“Sir, wake up. It’s currently 7 AM, and Fury is demanding a meeting in two hours for you to entirely ignore,” JARVIS said, but Tony was too deep in sleep to react. He just groaned and nuzzled his head against the broad, warm, comfortable chest he laid his head upon. The fabric of Steve’s shirt was soft and smelled of clean cotton and— _wait, something’s not the usual._

He sat up quickly and avoided looking at the Captain, and Steve let him do whatever he was comfortable with. “Good morning, Tony.” 

“G-Good morning, Cap. Sorry about that,” Tony muttered as he started rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight before him. His hair is ruffled. His eyes look better rested and it serves his entire face greatly as it brings out the clearness of his skin. His lips are pouted and pink and Steve resists the urge to just as much as trace his fingers over them. His goatee could use a trim, but it compliments his face so well. And when he blinks and turns his head towards a ray of sunshine that has creeped its way in, his left eye falls under it and becomes a beautiful shade of hazel. 

Steve’s hands yearn to touch him, his throat itches to say what he has been told not to say, and his eyes want to cry in anger and despair. 

Dum-E spilled some coffee on its way to the inventor, but Tony accepted it with much gratitude and smiled at the beeping bot. “Dum-E, don’t be rude. We got a guest here. Put one teaspoon of creamer and two teaspoons of caramel syrup.” Dum-E beeped in acknowledgement and walked to the coffee machine. 

“It’s fine, I'll go to the kitchen now any—” 

“Shh. Coffee’s better here, trust me,” he smiled. 

He smiled, he smiled, he smiled, _he always fucking smiled._ Steve can’t help but notice that Tony’s smiles at him say something, he just doesn’t know what. 

_“Tony likes to overthink. A lot,”_ Rhodey had said. _“Which means you gotta put him under the reality of the situation before his brain starts to run a bazillion codes at a time, and it also means that you should always ask him straightforward questions. Trust me, you guys would spare him a lot of trouble that way.”_

So Steve asked, “Why do you always smile at me?” 

Tony raised an eyebrow and then stuck his tongue out at the Captain. “Is that better?” 

Steve let out a chuckle and shook his head. Tony’s always been known to be charming and flirtatious, and while it was a good look on him, Steve knew it was more of a defense mechanism. He has spent nights watching interviews of Tony and noticed how hard the celebrity would bite and flip the tables. What one would consider to be embarrassing questions, Tony altered into jokes and charm. He made the hosts laugh and often threw flirty comments their way, and everyone cheered on. 

He came across the videos of his parties. Loud, bashful, colorful, and bigger than life. Tony was heavily drunk and drinking more than what his liver could handle. He was dancing to music louder than what his ears could handle. He was touched by hands groping, yanking, and tugging on more than what his delicate skin and mental state could handle, and everyone _fucking_ cheered on. 

Dum-E walked to the Captain with a cup of coffee, and Steve thanked the bot. 

“I’m sorry about last night,” Tony said casually. “In my defense, you shouldn’t have walked in. But then again, I shouldn’t have given Rhodey that code. Oh well...” 

“I meant every word last night. I hope you know it,” Steve said. 

Tony sighed. The genius had a lot on his mind—a lot of words and confessions that he wanted to rid his soul of. He never thought his mind wouldn’t panic upon the mere implication of being vocal about them, but now he was devoid of any feelings. He should be angry that everything’s been taken away from him: his childhood, his innocence, his sanity, his sleep, his health, his youth, his trust, the story of how he had lost those things, and everything that could have made him human. He should be sad that the man he loved and idolized is seen as nothing but a poster hung above his bed, and a threat. He wanted to answer his question: _I always smile at you because I'm trying to not always_ be _scared of you._

He should feel something, but he had nothing to lose. It was a peaceful revelation that put his soul at ease. He wanted to take that sense of peace with him to where he wanted to go, and that’s why he exposed everything his mind had put chains and locks over. 

“I was conditioned to love you, y’know? I was raised to love you. Aunt Peggy always spoke of Steve Rogers, not Captain America. She always spoke of you as someone separate from the Captain that you are. I looked up to you. I wanted nothing but to be like you. But I was never good enough to be someone like you. You were a high bar Howard set for me. And I continued looking up to you. I idolized you. I loved you. You saw the tapes. You saw my room. I was dying for you to be found. Literally and figuratively. Because everybody spoke of you as some sort of savior, which you are. So I always thought to myself, ‘Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he saving me?’” Dum-E was close by, and Tony fiddled with its clasps when he spoke again. “You heard him. In the tapes. He told me you would be proud of me. He used to say stuff like that all the time whenever he got... violent. At some point, he used to always tell me you would kill me. I was eight years old when he told me that for the first time. I believed him. 

And it’s hard. It's hard to come face to face with you after all those years and be constantly arguing with you and for his words to not ring a bell. I’m always anticipating it. I'm always anticipating you ramming your shield straight through this thing and shutting it down for good,” he pointed to the arc reactor, and Steve shuddered. “It’s wrong. Because you are not like that. You are good. Talking to you for just the few minutes we would have before an argument breaks out makes me feel good. Learning new things about you outside of the bedtime stories Aunt Peggy used to tell me or the history books I read or all the things he’s told me... is good,” Tony feels _his_ presence in his head. Scolding him. Tugging at his hair. Pinching his ear as he says _“You will never amount to Captain America! You will never amount to Steve Rogers!”_ Tony pauses to smile at the Captain. The Captain frowns. 

“And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It... it wasn’t your fault. You’re good. Pure. You’re... not what he made you out to be. But that’s all I've thought of you. It’s... what I’m struggling not to think of you right now. I’m sorry. But there will be none of those thoughts. None of those struggles anymore. You deserve much better.” 

Steve’s silence is suffocating to the both of them, but he’s taking his precious time understanding what to make out of this. There’s guilt behind those words, and something else that Steve can’t place his finger upon. But something about Tony apologizing for what his thoughts sound like doesn’t sit right with him, and it bothers him that he doesn’t know why. If there’s one thing, however, that he had made out of this, is that he’s given a reason. 

“Is this the reason why you didn’t want me to say it?” his voice is nothing above a whisper, but Tony hears him loud and clear. 

“Maybe.” 

“Do you think you don’t deserve to hear it?” 

“I just think you don’t deserve to waste it.” 

Steve’s heart feels solid and heavy. It feels and sounds wrong to hear those words come out of Tony. Something feels wrong and rotten. The air around him is no longer warm or welcoming, and he resists the urge to hold onto Tony’s shoulder and beg him to shoot a snarky comment at him, to make a silly joke that would make him uncomfortable yet blushing, to attend the meeting Fury has been practically begging him to attend and distract everybody with his comments while spinning his chair around childishly, to be Tony Stark. 

Steve’s heart sinks to his chest. This—the sadness, the mental breakdowns, the nervous fiddles with random objects, the POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER on page three of Tony’s file, the purple patterns littering his neck, the goddamn apologies that shot through Steve’s ears like acid—is Tony Stark, too. 

“Sir, Agent Fury is demanding your presence in the upcoming meeting. He says it’s urgent and that there will be consequences if you fail to show up,” JARVIS eloquent voice says. “I would also like to remind you of your meeting in the afternoon with the British AI Empire.” 

Tony spares a glance at the Captain who tells him “I think you should go this time. Just this once.” 

“Yeah, yeah. But I got an important meeting right after. You heard the man. So I’m not gonna stay for long.” 

Steve suggests that they leave to the meeting together, but Tony urges him to go before him and to tell Fury he’s gonna be late. 

Once he’s alone in his lab, he opens a new tab on his computer and starts typing away. Once satisfied with what he’s written, he goes to his room to get ready. He showers and spends a few extra minutes under the warm water and _don’t fucking cry right now get it together please please please_ , shaves and trims around his goatee with much precision and care, trims his hair to perfection, and picks out the most expensive and flattering suit he owns, as well as the MIT hoodie and sweatpants he would have to change into for his meeting in the afternoon, drenches his suit and senses in strong cologne, and covers his under-eye circles with high end makeup. 

He looks to himself in the mirror and sees Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. 

He throws a heavy vase filled with sunflowers against the mirror and smiles at a reflection of himself against a broken shard amidst the yellow-black flowers. He walks out. 

* * *

“He... apologized...” Rhodey repeated the sentence when it came out of Steve’s mouth. He doesn’t want to tell the blonde man that he’s seen this before, but he has. The only difference now is that he’s here this time around instead of receiving the call from Jarvis that his best friend is in the hospital due to an overdose of sleeping pills and an alcohol poisoning, and yet he still doesn’t know what to do. 

“I don’t know what to do,” the Captain whispered frustratingly, and Rhodey gulps down his admittance to that too. Instead, Rhodey guides them both to the round meeting table and finds that Fury’s pacing serves as a great distraction. “So he’s not coming.” 

“He said he will, Agent Fury. He’ll be late,” Steve answered. 

“Of course. Because my universe has just got to revolve around that motherfucker,” the Agent says furiously. The Avengers and Rhodey sit in an uncomfortable silence, until they hear Tony’s loud voice from the hallways demand coffee. Rhodey does not miss the smile that snakes its way on the Captain’s lips. 

“Good god, am I seeing this right? Tony Stark?! The Great Tony Stark graces us with his presence?!” Fury said with much heavy sarcasm. “I can’t believe my one eye!” 

The Avengers couldn’t believe their eyes either, especially Steve. Tony looked immaculate. He almost wanted to touch the brunet just to make sure he’s real. He looked expensive, luxurious, and like he would be dripping gold. 

“In all my glory,” Tony smirked and took a seat as head of the table. On either side were Rhodey and Steve, who Tony longed for resting his head on his warm chest again. 

“That’s still not looking too good,” Fury points to Tony’s neck where angry purple patterns start forming yet again. 

“Been worse.” 

“I don’t know if you realize, but you’ve become a problem. A problem I have to deal with,” Fury says as his voice escalates in volume, and Natasha get out of his frame of sight as he just listens to the incoming boring lecture. 

“Yeah, okay. Can we get this over with already? I have a meeting in an hour or so.” 

“No, no, you don’t get to walk away now. Contrary to your belief, you are not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems than you. But you constantly pissing the government off because you wanna play with your toys? Trust me, you don’t wanna become one of my bigger problems. Not to mention how that palladium poisoning—” 

“How do you know about that?” 

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re gonna fix it. And your gonna fix your issues with the damn government.” 

Tony's chuckle gets cut off when Natasha injects him with something straight to his neck. He yelps and jumps slightly in his seat. She cups his face to inspect him, and surely the purple patterns wear off. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” 

“Lithium dioxide,” Bruce says. “It’s a temporary fix. We still haven’t figured out how to properly cure you. No one understands the arc reactor better than you, which is why you need to fix this.” 

“Is this what this meeting is all about? Can I just go now?” Tony feels agitated and uneasy, and he’s realizing that time is fleeting and _oh god if I don’t make it to the fucking meeting early..._

“Read this,” Fury throws a file his way, and Tony catches it and flips through the papers in a haste. 

“So it’s either be the government or SHIELD’s bitch? I’m not handing my property to any of you,” Tony says as he throws the file back to Fury. “Regarding this shit in my chest,” he points to the arc reactor, “I’m working on it. Trust me, it doesn’t feel all that great to incorporate heart attacks into my daily routine. And Iron Man? Yeah, that’s my property. You won’t touch it.” 

“You are too much of an unstable, spontaneous prick to be handling these suits. There! I said it!” Fury yelled, and the Avengers’ eyes widened. It was clearly meant to be a secret between them, but Fury’s patience was wearing thin, and Tony’s emotional anger and numbness were too comfortably mixed for him to take offense. 

“What the fuck does that mean, Fury?” 

“It means the government doesn’t fucking trust you. What? You think they’ll trust you when your only way of dealing with a threat is to get drunk out of your mind and do hard drugs? Or to fucking whore yourself out? That shit made fucking headlines, Stark!” 

“I didn’t—” 

“No, zip it! The adult is talking!” 

Tony felt the weight of that command block his airways. All he felt was warm, humid dread. Fury leaned over the table, looming over him, making him feel so small. He tried to sit up straighter in his seat, but a pang of pain surged right through his chest, and he found himself sink not into the cushion of his seat, but into _a wormhole, a cave, a room decorated in red-golden-green, the lap of an old man he trusted, another room decorated in red-white-blue, an abyss._

“—irresponsible! They need someone worthy of respect and—” 

“Shut up,” he found it in himself to mutter. There was anger and finality to the way it came out, and he mentally patted himself on the shoulder when he heard the silence. “Fuck you and fuck the government. Iron Man is mine. He’ll live with me, and he’ll die with me. The government has War Machine, and that’s enough. Fuck your respect and fuck your orders. And fuck me for coming in here in the first fucking place.” 

He shot out of his seat. The only thought grounding him and keeping him sane in the moment is the meeting he had to be at in just a few minutes. 

“Stark. You know I—” 

“Save it. I have a meeting to attend. Responsibility, y’know?” He said bitterly as he made it to the door, but before he made his exit, he said, “Oh and Fury? My resignation is gonna be sent to you tonight. Goodbye.” 

* * *

Alzheimer, Tony learned, is a bitch. There were so many things he had to consider before he gets to walk into the room. He has changed quickly in his car into his MIT hoodie and sweatpants, combed through his hair so the hair strands would fall onto his face much like how it looked like back then, and wore red sneakers because dressing shoes could be enough to confuse her. Now he fiddled nervously with the hems of his sleeves as he watched nurses walk in and out of the room as they changed bedsheets and cleaned the rooms, a routine that ensued before visiting hours would start, which he had to wait for five more minutes before he was allowed to be let in. He used the time to pray to whoever was hearing him that she wouldn’t confuse him for Howard like she always did, or fall asleep. He knew she couldn’t help it, but today was the last time he would see her, and he wanted to drift off with a beautiful memory of her without it getting tainted because of him. 

His phone rang, interrupting his prayers. 

“Hey, Pep.” 

“Hey, Tony. Where are you?” 

He tried to move away from the chatter of the nurses. “Meeting. With the British AI Empire.” 

“Is that so?” Pepper said, but Tony could hear her calling bullshit on that just fine. “That’s funny. Because the British AI Empire aren’t conducting meetings now. In fact, they haven’t conducted any meetings for months now.” He sighed loudly through the phone. “Where are you, Tony?” 

“Somewhere I clearly don’t want you to know about.” 

“Fine. Whatever. But just to let you know, I’ve got a lot on my fucking plate right now. I’m dealing with too much of your shit. I may be CEO, but you own this damn company. So act like it. Not only that, but SHEILD has not been off my back for months now and I can no longer put them on hold. Whatever happened with you and Agent Fury today has been adding to my—” 

Tony couldn’t hear her as he was approached by a nurse who let him know that visiting hours have started and that he may enter the room now. 

“Visiting hours? Tony, where the fuck—” 

“I’ll talk to you later, Pepper. And I'm sorry.” 

He hung up and evened out his breathing before entering the room. He took a few steps in slowly as to not startle her. He stood there in front of her bed and watched as she blinked slowly at him. He never knows who she would take him for, he just knew that some days were better than others and sometimes his choice of clothing affected that, but they always ended up with her beaming _“Howard! Oh, how I missed you, darling.”_ To which he would try not to fall apart right there and then as he holds her hands and whispers. _“I missed you too.”_ He didn’t have it in him to be cruel to her. He just left her brain make whatever it wanted out of reality, all while holding her wrinkled, lithe hands. 

Her face brightened with a smile as she extended her arms. “Anthony. Oh my god, Anthony, my love. My precious boy. Come here!” He walked over to her and fell into her open arms. He nuzzled his head into her neck and took in her ever-comforting scent one last time. “Hey, Auntie. I missed you so much.” He pulled away after a few minutes of pure bliss in the form of a hug and took a seat next to her bed. 

“My precious boy. Something’s wearing you down. What is it?” 

He never broke eye contact with her when he spoke. “I’m giving up.” 

“Is that so?” It was soft, understanding, caring. “Why?” 

“Because I’m tired. This life, I’ve come to realize, is not worth it.” 

She kept looking into his eyes with a soft smile on her red-less lips. She chuckled, and Tony thought perhaps her mind has bent reality yet again, but then she spoke, “You, Anthony Edward Stark, are extraordinary. I always saw it in you. No one put that out. No one dared to scratch that. Because somewhere along the line, I put a piece of myself in you. And Jarvis did so too, before the cancer ate him away...” her eyes blinked back tears, but she carried on. “We raised you. Jarvis and I. Strong, big hearted, witty, and absolutely beautiful. We put the best parts of ourselves in you. We really did. Because we love you.” She held his hands in a tight grip, and Tony let his tears flow freely. 

“I love you, Anthony. Jarvis loved you dearly. You will never know how he looked at you when you slept, or how he would kiss your forehead and run his fingers through your luscious hair when you’d catch a cold. You’ll never know how much we truly love you. And my boy, I'm not going to lie to you. Your life has never been easy. Any of it. Not your childhood, not your teenage years, not Afghanistan, not the New York battle, not Obadiah, not becoming Iron Man, and definitely not fighting alongside Captain America.” 

“Auntie, how do yo—” 

“I watch the news, darling. Don’t be silly. I haven’t lost it all yet,” she smiled and playfully punched his shoulder, and he lets out a breathless laugh. “You don’t owe us anything for loving you and you never will. But my darling, I just ask this of you. Don’t let anyone, not even yourself, take away what we have given you. Live on. Carry the weight of your past not as a burden, but as a legacy.” She holds on as tightly as she can to Tony’s hand, and a gasp escapes his lips upon the strength her hands exert. “Don’t waste your life.” 

_Don’t waste your life._

It’s a sentence he has heard before, and it hurts to be slapped by it again. For months, it had been the anchor his ship was saved by, but now it has become the anchor that weighs his ship down, and he’s on the brink of drowning. 

“Anthony, cry. Please. Why are you so cruel to yourself?” 

He falls into her arms as he weeps. He’s holding onto her for dear life, and he feels small. But he lets himself feel small in her arms because he had been small in her arms. He doesn’t mind it. If anything, he finds comfort in it, similar to the comfort he had felt sleeping in the Captain’s arms with his head nuzzled into his warm chest. He doesn’t flinch at such realization, he smiles at its face, but he knows he won’t be able to smile at it or at the Captain anymore. Not after tonight. 

Her hold of him loosens, and Tony’s heart clenches in dread of what he’s anticipating. He pulls out of her embrace slowly and cups her cheeks, and his tear stained face has his begs written all over it. 

_Please don’t forget me now. Please don’t let reality fall to its knees. Please see me. Please say my name. Please don’t say—_

“Howard?” She whispers. 

He shuts his eyes tightly and bites at his tongue to stifle a sob. When he thinks he’s got it under control, he nods, albeit frantically. “Yes. Yes, Peggy.” 

“I’ve missed you so much, my pal.” 

He tries to smile for her, but the curves of his lips give him away, and he frowns against himself. 

“Howard? Are you okay?” It was soft, understanding, caring. He can’t be cruel to her. 

“I’m okay, Peggy,” he whispers and tucks a strand of her graying her behind her ear. “I’m always okay.” 

* * *

This was the fifth punching bag he had dislodged from its hanger. On any other day, he would’ve been satisfied, but today he’s desperate and angry. The team had noticed it, and Natasha had taken up sparring with the man until she got a call from SHIELD to do some paperwork. Then Thor came to the gym area, and after a few minutes of sparring, the god winced at the memories of Tony’s that still haunted his mind and admitted so to the Captain. Bruce and Clint called up on them to join them for dinner, but Steve told Thor that he wasn’t hungry and stayed behind to dislodge more punching bags. If he were in any other gym, the punching bags would’ve been knocked off in a few seconds, but Tony had designed these punching bags to take on more damage. 

Because that’s how Tony is. He finds out about the tiniest details and pays them much attention and effort. Steve has always noticed such quality in the brunet, but he always tied it to his knowledge of mechanics. Surely someone who notices how the smallest of screwdrivers could jeopardize the function of a machine, then he would easily notice the faults of anything outside of the field as well. Right? _Wrong, idiot._

Tony Stark just happens to care. Because Tony Stark happens to be human, and billions of dollars can’t change that. Billions of dollars can’t cure his pain or sorrow or the memories that made Thor, a mere outsider and a mighty god, wince and grow weary of sparring. Tony has been sparring his whole life with those memories in constant display in his mind, and he still stood tall and smiled. _He always fucking smiled._

A sixth punching bag dislodged out of its hanger, and Steve marched to the next one. He designed them all according to Steve’s strength because he heard the complains about how they never handle his brute or strength and always rip open. Although these bags don’t rip open, they do dislodge, and Tony had promised that he would fix the issue. 

Steve’s punches have always carried speed, force, and the intent to hurt. His mind, however, always sought after more. It’s why every Wednesday afternoon he sat across a woman with jet black hair who asked too many questions and reported the answers to Tony. It's why the gym was warm and images of the date and time always displayed before him. Because Tony Stark happens to care, but his own mind happens to not. His sweat was cold, his fingertips were cold, his lips were trembling because he felt _so cold._

_Bombs._

_Guns._

_The Howling Commandos shouting for succor when the Nazis started shooting._

_I gotta put her in the water._

_Bucky reaching his hand for him to catch before he falls._

_Howard giving him the shield._

_Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he saving me?_

_Pushing the lever of the plane._

_Don’t you dare be late._

_Page 3: Stark has been diagnosed with POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER._

_Cold. So cold._

_All I wanna do is kill myself._

_Howard’s smile._

_Are these sea creatures or am I seeing things?_

“Captain, Sir has arrived. Should I tell him to come here?” 

_Choking on cold water._

_Tony’s smile._

_The ice getting in his eyes._

_Peggy’s red lipstick._

_Don’t say it. I-I can’t take it._

_Tony’s tear stained face._

“Cap?” 

He had fallen to his knees. His chest heaved as he trembled and clutched fistfuls of hair to tug on. But his mind didn’t stop pushing one image after the other. He was frozen yet again, but he heard the genius ask JARVIS to increase the temperature of the room, and felt the warmth engulf him instantly when Tony knelt in front of him and landed his palms upon the Captain’s shoulders. 

“Steve? Steve match my breathing. Come on. Inhale, exhale, inh—nah-uh, not like that. Just follow me, okay?”

In a moment of despair and impulse, Steve lunged towards the engineer to wrap his arms around him. He sobbed loudly and shamelessly. He was scared— _no, petrified_ —of losing Tony. He had lost so much, been late to so much, and this man he was holding onto for dear life was his second chance at life. And how ironic it is that the man he considers to be his second chance at life wants nothing but to end his own. 

Tony’s calloused hands tried to comfort the Captain. One hand was rubbing his back, the other running through his blonde hair. Although he did feel sensitive to the touch today, he pushed that aside and focused on soothing the soldier. Steve was shaking and trembling hard in his arms, and although the room was getting too hot for Tony’s liking, he urged JARVIS to increase the temperature a bit more. Steve’s body finally felt warm at that, but his left ear was right over the glowing blue, and Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest. He moves his head to face the brunet, who looked eerily numb. There was no light in his eyes. Steve might as well paint on his face for it was an empty canvas. Steve shuddered, and stopped Tony from ordering JARVIS to raise the temperature by saying, “Stay. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.” 

“I’m here, Roge—” 

“You don’t wanna be. Please Tony. Please don’t…” the words hung in the air for a solid minute, but Steve has had enough of not saying what he wasn’t comfortable with, because what he wasn’t comfortable with was often the reality of things. “Please don’t kill yourself.” 

Tony laughed in delight as if Steve had told him an amusing story. Steve’s eyes widened slightly in horror of how comfortably detached and numb the brunet he was holding onto has become. 

Tony nodded and let out a blissful sigh. “We’ll see about that, big guy.” 

* * *

He was invited for dinner with the Avenger bunch, and by invited, he means that he has been dragged along with the Captain out of the gym by Rhodey who had practically carried a giggling Tony on his back. Steve watched on with a smile as his ears bloomed with the sound of the genius’ giggles, and Rhodey smirked at the Captain’s infatuation. 

When they reached the communal kitchen, Tony hopped off Rhodey’s back and squeezed himself between Clint and Bruce as they cooked traditional Italian food and looked at the two as though they were not real. “You guys cooked my favorite food?” 

“Yeah, Rhodey told us it’s your favorite. And lucky for you, I had ordered a bunch of authentic spices the other day,” Bruce said. “Take a seat. It won’t take long.” 

But the aroma of the food was too familiar to walk away from. It almost felt like a hug, and not just any hug, a hug from the British man who cared enough about the boy to keep him connected to his Italian roots; going as far as to teach Tony the Italian language since his mother was never around to do so. 

_“Oh my god, Jarvis. This... this is so delicious,” the boy beamed between spoonfuls of pasta and mouthwatering sauce._

_“Glad to hear so. Now, how do we say delicious in Italian?” Jarvis asked._

_Tony took some time to recall the words, but then his eyes glinted like they always do when he solves equations or looks at Jarvis. “È delizioso. Voi fai il cibo migliore.”_

_Jarvis smiled at the genius boy and smiled when he moaned in delight upon shoving another spoonful of the food in his mouth. “Faccio il meglio per il meglio,” he said as he ruffled the boy’s hair, and Tony rolled his eyes at the man, but the words shot through his chest and hugged his heart until it warmed._

“Fury rejected your resignation,” Natasha told him when he sat on the stool next to her. 

“I haven’t even sent it yet.” 

“I know. He has set an automatic response to the email that rejects it.” 

Tony smirked at the unsaid reply to that in his head: _Who said my resignation was only bound to my job?_

In his head, he was constantly cheered on for his decision. It made sense. He had worked nonstop for the past few weeks to ensure nothing would be affected by his departure. There were countless updates to the Avengers' suits and weaponries. He had built various War Machine suits for Rhodey to inherit. An official contract of passing his ownership of the company to Pepper was issued; it was just waiting for her signature. All his money was divided equally among orphanages, funding students’ projects and researchers seeking a cure for cancer, various organizations to end global hunger and homelessness, and organizations in the Middle East to help reverse the damage inflected by the US army, civil wars, and terrorist attacks. Not to mention how the Avengers were bound to receive their fair share of millions of dollars. 

With just a few hours left for his plan to take flight, he was hoping he can leave off on a good note with these people. So he sat down with a red head assassin and a god on either side of him, and joked around with them until they roared with laughter. “I hadn’t known you were a hilarious man, Tony! I haven’t laughed this much in years!” Thor had said. 

When they all gathered around on the table, Tony was resisting the urge to cry at how much the food tasted like Jarvis had made it. He was quiet as he chewed. Slowly, carefully, as if anything quicker than that pace would be offensive. The team were too busy bickering and chatting, and he took the time to mentally cry out to the British man of how much he missed him. 

_Soon,_ he thought. _I’ll see you soon, Jay. Tonight._

The team noticed his silence, and he quickly and smoothly joined into their conversations. They talked to him and about him with so much respect. They weren’t stood on one side of the table arguing and spitting venom in his face like they always did. They talked to him like he was human, and although Tony was smiling and laughing along with them, he wanted to scream. 

If they hadn’t watched those tapes, they wouldn’t have treated him like this. If they hadn’t known, they wouldn’t have excused his behavior instead of insulting him. If they hadn’t watched him breakdown, they wouldn’t have considered him human. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie tonight. Join in, yeah?” Clint told him. 

“I got work to do.” 

“You always got work to do. Have a break just for tonight,” Steve said. 

“No can do. I got deadlines to meet and an angry Pepper to make things up for. It’s not fair on her.” 

“Okay, well, try to finish up quickly, okay? We’ll wait on you,” Clint smiled, and Tony bit his tongue and plastered a perfidious smile. _Don’t scream. Get it together._

When dinner was over, Rhodey and Steve chatted in a corner away from the genius who was currently washing the dishes and humming a tune under his breath. 

“I don’t even know, man,” Rhodey sighed. “I mean. He seems to be doing okay? But then again he has always looked okay before shit hit the fan.” 

“So what do we do?” Steve whispered. 

“I say we give him time.” 

* * *

“JARVIS, you here?” 

“For you, Sir, always.” 

Tony let out a breath he didn’t he was holding as he walked through his lab one last time. He touched over everything he encountered. He kissed his bots and ordered them to go back to their stations to resume their sleep, but Dum-E was too stubborn and clingy and rebelled against his orders. He let out a breathless chuckle. “I really did put a piece of myself in you, didn’t I?” 

_Because somewhere along the line, I put a piece of myself in you._

Tony bit back tears as Peggy’s words rained down on him. He had wished her words gave him strength, but all they did was drench him in shame and guilt for not being worthy of all the love and strength she passed on to him. Poor Jarvis was probably watching in on him with disappointment, and he found himself apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m not strong enough. I can’t do any of this. I wish I was better.” 

“You are not the strongest man alive, that much is true,” JARVIS voice chimed in, and Tony fell to his knees by Dum-E's side. “But Sir, I have watched you work and fight and sacrifice so much of yourself and time for what you believed in. No matter how much I urged you to stop for a break, you didn’t. Nothing and no one could stop you. Not the panic attacks, not the nightmares, not the Avengers’ harsh words, not aliens. This, Sir, is formidability. You are formidable. Don’t—” 

“Stop, JARVIS. Please,” Tony whispered as he sobbed. “Just... just do everything we’ve agreed on. Send the contracts to Pepper... and... just... do everything we’ve agreed on.” 

“Sir, I—” 

“Please, Jay. Just listen to me.” 

“Consider it done, Sir,” JARVIS said, albeit begrudgingly. 

“Th-thank you,” Tony hiccuped between sobs. 

Dum-E whirred sadly and inquisitively at its creator. It walked towards something in the far distance, but the world was too blurry for Tony. When the bot came back, it waited for Tony to open his palm so it could land the ball in it. The same ball from all the test runs he conducted for the bot. Tony giggled through his sobs. “You’re my best friend. Thank you for always keeping me company,” Tony whispered to the bot who whirred and beeped. 

Tony looked around the beautiful mess that is his lab. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered as his hand traced around the diameter of the arc reactor. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Tony,” JARVIS said. “It was an honor to serve you.” 

The lab’s light dimmed to almost darkness, nothing keeping it lit but the glowing blue emitting from Tony’s chest. JARVIS shut everything down, but in a moment of hope, he left the doors open. 

Tony’s hand held onto the rim of the arc reactor as he clicked on its mechanics with his fingernails to detach it. His mind was flooded with panic and dread, but peace was blooming amidst it all. 

_Don’t waste your life._

He heard it out of Jarvis’ lips before the monitor screamed the flatline. He heard it from Yinsen before he took one last painful breath of dusty air. He heard it from Peggy’s red-less lips as he held onto her wrinkled hands. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

With one last tug at the arc reactor, he felt the slow, painful shadows of death loom over him. All the pain, all the violation of his body and trust, all the times he has been dragged to filth by the media and his teammates, all the panic attacks, all the sleepless nights, all the nightmares, all the mental breakdowns, all the suicidal tendencies and attempts have not prepared him for this. Yet, he was reaching with his hands for it. He yearned for it. 

He felt the shrapnels tug at his flesh. He knew this was going to be a slow and painful death, and he thought: _Good. I deserve that._

His body convulsed and rebelled against his actions, but he kept a tight grip on the arc reactor until he felt his body slump and saw the glowing blue die slowly with him. He hoped that the smile on his lips doesn’t die away, too.

“I hope you know I tried,” he whispered into the darkness and closed his eyes. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

* * *

Clint looked through the various playlists of movies they set up on screen in search for Tony’s favorite while everyone tossed around pillows and blankets to set up the room.

“What did you say was Tony’s favorite movie, again?” He asked. 

“Inception,” Rhodey answered and tossed a pillow Natasha’s way. They were all moving around with tasks to get this night right, except for Steve who paced around with worry. 

_We’ll see about that, big guy._

He resisted the urge to sprint to the lab now that Rhodey had said to give him time, but that didn’t mean that his heart wasn’t clenching in worry and fear for what that could have possibly meant. He was all smiles and laughs during dinner, and Steve figured that perhaps Rhodey is right; giving the brunet time seems to work. _Right?_

He turned on his heels in his pace, and stumbled back a few steps when he bumped into Dum-E. 

“What’s this bot doing here?” Thor asked. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

“You lost, little guy? Yeah?” Clint asked. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

“What’s wrong with it? Is it broken or something?” Natasha asked. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

“JARVIS, What’s Dum-E doing here?” Rhodey asked, but JARVIS didn’t respond. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

“JARVIS?” Bruce asked. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

Dum-E whirred and beeped. 

_Dum-E whirred and beeped._

_I had another nightmare. I’ve... always had nightmares._

Steve gasped. 

_This is stupid. You don’t care. You probably won’t even watch this._

“Take the elevator. To his lab. Now! GO!” 

_The bottle of vodka. The orange bottle of sleeping pills._

He stumbled on his steps but kept running. 

_When I drift off, I'll think of you. I’ll think of all the pain you’ve put me through._

“Tony! Tony!” He cried his name out. "God, please!" 

_We’ll see about that, big guy._

He reached the lab and ran in search for that sweet glowing blue through the darkness, and found it weakly emit not from Tony's chest, but in his hand. 

“Tony! Don’t you dare die on me, Tony! Don’t you fucking dare!” Steve cried as he frantically tried to get a hold of the arc reactor with his shaking hands. The light was faint and dull, and he desperately put it back into the man’s chest where it belonged, where it would glow in that beautiful shade of blue; the shade of blue that became Steve’s favorite. 

But his favorite shade of blue did not come back to him. The arc reactor didn’t glow again. 

“I love you,” Steve whispered between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” 

The heartbeat Steve felt under his palm was as faint as the glowing blue, but it was enough to carry the unconscious man in his arms and shout for succor louder than the Howling Commandos ever did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading!! please please pleaseeee leave a comment of your thoughts and feedback :)
> 
> "È delizioso. Voi fai il cibo migliore." = It's delicious. You make the best food.
> 
> "Faccio il meglio per il meglio." = I do the best for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so incredibly much for all the support :') i honestly didn't think ppl would like this fic let alone read it lol
> 
> ***DISCLAIMER: for some reason readers are receiving notifs that this is chapter 9. this is chapter 6 and im sorry for the issue!!

_And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. It... it wasn’t your fault. You’re good. Pure. You’re... not what he made you out to be. But that’s all I've thought of you. It’s... what I’m struggling not to think of you right now. I’m sorry. But there will be none of those thoughts. None of those struggles anymore. You deserve much better._

The words were dripping in guilt and that _something else_ Steve couldn’t for the love of him wrap his head around; simply because he didn’t know it. Now, he’s angry and frustrated because time seems to be his greatest enemy, always making sure he knows it as he hears the clock ticking or JARVIS’ declaration of it ringing through his ears during nights of cold panic. And all those realizations he comes to be kicked in the gut by always come up to him late, _late, late, Steve you’re late don’t you dare be late..._

But he is. He doesn’t need a ticking clock or JARVIS eloquently declaring it, for he is stood a surgery room away from the realization—the realization that the _something else_ had been a suicide note. 

_But there will be none of those thoughts. None of those struggles anymore._

It’s been sixteen hours and twenty-nine minutes of SHIELD’S nurses and doctors rushing in and out of the emergency room where Tony’s surgery was held. They were able to remove just one shrapnel that got dangerously close to his heart but removing any more was a huge risk that they decided to not delve into. Bruce went inside to help the medical team, but when the heart monitors started blaring a flatline, Bruce’s skin turned a dangerous shade of green as he fell to his knees and started screaming for Tin Man to wake up, and the roar of the green rage monster was enough to have the team stand in absolute shock and denial of that god awful flatline laced with the Hulk’s roar. Rhodey had knocked on the locked doors of the room with all his might as he screamed for Tony’s heart to beat on. “You’re my family! I need you here! Please don’t go! Please wake up, Tony!” 

The doctors rushed into performing a CPR, which didn’t work due to the chunk of metal in his chest. They rushed for a defibrillator, and Bruce watched in deadly anticipation and horror as the surges of electric pulses lifted Tony's torso off the bed momentarily over and over again, with no avail of a heartbeat to sound through. 

“Anthony Edward Stark announced dead. Thursday the fifteenth of Nov—” 

But Bruce scrambled to his feet as he snatched the medical devices from the physician’s hands as the Hulk’s voice dominated the scientist’s vocal cords. “Shut up! Tony hurt! But Tony no die!” 

He saw as Tony’s skin grew cold under the touch, and how his lips were devoid of color. He let his tears fall as he pushed the electrocuting device over Tony’s chest again and again. No heartbeat. No glowing blue. No sound piercing through his ears but the flatline and Rhodey’s screams and the Hulk’s roars echoing in his skull. 

With a desperate cry, he surged the electricity right over the arc reactor, and let out triumphant cry when a heartbeat echoed into the room, and that lovely shade of blue shone like a beacon of hope. The doctors took over from there yet again as Bruce sobbed in disbelief. He didn’t even process being pushed out of the room and meeting the Avengers’ bloodshot eyes again. 

“He w-was d-dead. He—” Bruce sobbed again as he fell into a sobbing Rhodey’s arms. “I-I’ll n-never get th-that out of m-my head. He was... He w-was announced d-dead.” 

Steve ran to an empty bathroom. He locked himself in an empty stall and fell to his knees as he sobbed. He tried to hold his shuddering frame, but all he could feel was the ghost of Tony’s sleeping body. Alive. Glowing blue. Stirring to chase after comfort. Nuzzling his head into the Captain’s chest. Feeling his heartbeat against him. Beating. Alive. Smiling. Because he always fucking smiled. He was all laughs and giggles just a few hours before he tried to kill himself. He was smiling. He was laughing. He looked okay. He was hurting. He was in pain. He tried to kill himself. 

And it’s all their fault. 

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

A steady sound he could hear in the back of his mind that annoyed him. He wondered if this is all there is to the afterlife—darkness and beeping sounds. _Where’s Jarvis? Where’s Yinsen?_ Perhaps he’s not supposed to meet people in heaven if he’s bound to end up in hell. He’s trying not to let the thought bother him too much, but it does hurt his heart. He just wished he could’ve seen them, at the very least. He was too naïve and too much of a selfish idiot to think that he would be worthy of just the mere sight of them. But if he doesn’t meet Jarvis or Yinsen, does he meet Howard? He doesn’t think he would be able to take it if he sees Howard again or if Howard speaks to him again or if Howard hits him again or if Howard burns him again or if Howard pushes him to his knees under him again or if Howard pushes him into the mattress again like how those men in Afghanistan did and _oh my fucking god why is the beeping so frantic and loud?_

“—s’wrong? Why’s he—” he heard a voice say, albeit muffled to his ears. _God? That guy really exists?_

“—nic attack. Please move we’re gonna—” 

He tried to speak, but his tongue felt so heavy. Then he recalled that dead people can’t really speak, _duh._

“—gular. He needs oxygen and—” 

He felt something on his face for a few seconds and— _wait. Why can I feel things? I’m dead, right? I must be._

“—gen. He should wake up any mi—” 

_What’s going on? Why can I hear you? Why can’t I speak? Am I dead? I’m dead. Right?_

“—ou, doctor. We’ll look out fo—” 

The voices got clearer and clearer; like when his captors in Afghanistan had pulled at his hair to bring him up from the hot water he’d suffocate and choke on, and he’d feel his ears slowly but surely push the muffling water out of his ears, and he is just as confused as he was when he heard those men scream a language he didn’t understand because he can’t make out anything that is being said now. His mind feels dazed and hazy, and his tongue and eyelids feel heavy. 

His mind, however, whirred into action. He realized he wasn’t dead, and he felt his eyes get warm, but was unable to feel any tears escape. He wanted oh so badly to be able to open his mouth to scream for death to call for his name like it always did. But his prayer fell on deaf ears as he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, and although his vision was far too blurry, he could make out the silhouette of people around him. 

A horrible ache in his heart ensues, and the monitor exposes it. 

“Hey, Tony,” he hears Clint speak softly and sees his hand wave. 

He looks around as his vision clears out. He sees the Avengers in front of him smile softly. Steve and Bruce’s faces are stained with tears. He sees Rhodey by his side. No smiles and no stains. Raw, fresh tears are pouring out of his eyes and a deep frown is etched all over him, and Déjà vu looms over him as he recalls this exact position they had when he was fifteen. “I’m so fucking glad you’re back,” he hiccups, and Tony’s heart aches. 

His heart ached not because his flesh was tender, but because he felt like such a failure.   
  
No one ever speaks of the loss a suicidal person feels claw at their chest when they attempt, only to wake up the very next day. It's a dread that creeps into his mind like bugs crawling up his body to infest his rotten brain, and he can't quite shake them off as they pinch and bite. It's like building a tall pyramid just to watch it fall into ruble and debris, and the Pharaoh's curse of eternal agony echoes through the walls of his skull. He feels hallow, empty, and lonely. The Avengers and Rhodey surround him by his bed, and he wants to cry out in misery because they feel twice as far. 

“Tony? How are you feeling?” Bruce asked. 

"I feel dead inside," he spoke with carelessness that came out of his numb state of mind. "You guys don't care. You never did. You never will. I don't blame you. All my life, I grew up among machineries and computers. I'm no different than them. Even the Captain had said it."   
  
"Tony, I'm—"   
  
"Shut up. Please, Captain. Just shut up. You're what? Sorry? So am I. Because I'm not enough. Never have, never will be. I'm a murderer. 'Merchant of Death', remember? And you're all so good and too pure and I'm tainted. Blood on my hands, blood on my face, blood on my body. I'm too dirty. Fucking filthy. Simple men, simple fucking men, and I couldn't stand up to them. My father, the men of Afghanistan, Obadiah, the countless men and women I was too drunk to push off me. I'm no hero. I'm no 'Defender of the Earth' or whatever it is those people from that other realm call me. I'm weak. And tired. And filthy. And I will forever be those things. I don't want you to fucking look at me like I'm a tragedy. Or treat me like I'm made of glass. I want things to go back to normal. I want to be locked away in my lab and not come out unless the world's falling apart. Or unless you guys need someone to release all your stress on, so you call me up for a debriefing and rain all your insults and all the pent-up anger on me. Things were better that way."   
  
"It was not better, Tony. We're so sorry. God, we're so fucking sorry. It wasn't normal either. We were so horrible to you," Clint said as tears rolled down his cheeks.   
  
"It was normal enough for it to become a routine. For it to become all I expect out of you," Tony said as his eyes drooped with exhaustion. "But I don't care. I want it back. It was better. I was better. I was useful. There was no pity or treating me like I'm small. I want that back."   
  
"Tony, sweetheart—" Natasha started, but was interrupted by a heart wrenching sob.   
  
"D-Don't call me that. God, why don't you fucking understand? C-Call me selfish. Arrogant. S-Stupid. A machine. A wh-whore. A narcissist. Not f-fucking recommended. Anything! Don't be fucking sweet to me now. D-Don't call me your sweetheart now," he sobbed into his hands, and the monitors by his bed were enough to tell them that they were putting him under enough stress, just like they always did. The only difference is that they could see it after it had not just slapped them in the face, but spat on them too when he said: 

“If y-you hadn’t watched th-those fucking tapes, y-you wouldn’t h-have been n-nice to me. If y-you hadn’t known I was r-raped, you w-would've laughed when F-Fury called m-me a whore.”   
  
It made them feel horrible and guilty to know that through all this time and through all the verbal abuse they threw the engineer's way and the inconsideration of his feelings, they were contributing to something much bigger. And they exchange a look that was enough to confirm that the genius is right; if they hadn’t known, they most probably wouldn’t have stopped. Their third eye would not have opened to see that this wasn’t normalcy, it was abuse. 

Rhodey let silent tears fall for his best friend as he heard him speak of the pain his teammates put him through, and he resisted the urge to punch them all. He already felt stupid and guilty as it is for falling for Tony’s façade yet again, but the team’s too? He was seething.   
  
Natasha was drowning in guilt. Her training had always eliminated the idea of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Thus, she came to know people by looking for the worst in them. She hadn't looked at Stark's self-destructive tendencies as a coping mechanism to make up for his suicidal ideations, and she definitely hadn't looked at his so-called narcissism as an attempt at seeking love and care that his attention starved childhood and brain were robbed off. For the first time in her life, she feels stupid. 

Clint didn't see the millions upon millions of dollars that get donated to various organizations or the galas he hosted every other week to raise charity funds for various global issues, he just saw a snob. He saw the parties and the alcohol and the sex tapes on cheap porn websites, but now that his mind recalls it, is it really “sex” when all the porn videos included the words DRUNK TONY STARK or TONY STARK ON DRUGS in the title? He lets out a shaky breath and hides his face in his hands because all his mind could come up with is one conclusion: he fucked up. 

Thor was crying. He out of everyone should’ve been the most understanding. He saw his father wrong Loki in many ways, and saw the absolute misery Loki grew up in. But Loki had a brother, Stark had no one. He should’ve known that his teammate would be suffering immensely even if he presented otherwise. Not to mention how he saw images and heard the cries of the little boy Stark has once been not through the screen of the TV, but through the man’s mind. He was still suffering, still dwelling in those memories, still hurt. And Thor was too busy wincing over wounds that weren’t his instead of tending to the man suffering them. 

Bruce and the Hulk for once agreed on something: that Tony is someone they had failed to protect. And from who? From themselves. It hurts him like no other. After all, this was the same man who had fought nails and teeth to keep him safe from falling into the hands of the government and a deep depression. He shakes his head at himself as he hears the Hulk say “Stupid people! We make Tin Man sad!” 

Steve is about to admit to all his faults. He’s about to tell him of how wrong he was for being as selfish as to look for the Stark from his past rather than accept the Stark of the present. And when he accepted him, he had started to fall in love. But being the man of time that he is, he was too late. He’s about to fall on his knees by Tony’s side and beg him for forgiveness. He was about to say so much, but Tony’s next words stab right through his guilt-ridden heart. 

“And if y-you hadn’t known a-about H-Howard,” his bloodshot misty eyes locked with the Captain’s. “Y-You would’ve s-still w-wanted me to b-be him.” 

* * *

The nurses exited out of the room after they had sedated him and warned the bunch that they were not going to be allowed entry if they put the sick brunet under any more stress. They nodded and waited outside of his room until the nurses would grant them the permission of spending the night in his room. 

“We were stupid,” Natasha whispered. “We were so fucking stupid.” 

“You think?” Rhodey fired back bitterly. “You were fucking cruel. But I should’ve fucking known it. Every fucking time I’d come to the tower, the tower that he named after y’all ungrateful fucks, he’d be alone in his lab. Always. I have never seen y’all near his floor ever. The only time you care is after you watch those fucking tapes. And you wonder why acting like you guys care all of the sudden is a tough pill for him to swallow?” 

“He always looked at us like we were below him. He was so fucking intimidating and—” 

“Is he really, Clint? Is he intimidating or are you, you son of a bitch, intimidated? Huh?” Rhodey seethed. “He sure as hell doesn’t look so above you now. Does it really have to take him to fucking kill himself for y’all to fucking care?! So when I, his only friend, am not on time to save his life, it’s a fucking robot that does? When he fucking lives among not one or two, but five super-fucking-heroes!” 

“Colonel,” Steve hiccupped. “We’re gonna do whatever it takes to do right by him. I promise you we will. We... we didn’t realize we care about him so fucking much. We were so fucking horrible to him. God, I was so horrible.” 

Worst of all, Steve thinks, is that they hadn’t known they were cruel to him in the first place. 

_“Where the hell has Stark went?” Clint muttered bitterly as soon as they walked into the communal floor. His ankle has been sprained—an accident that could’ve been avoided if Iron Man obeyed the Captain’s orders and flew in time to catch the Hawkeye._

_“JARVIS, tell Stark to come up here for a debriefing,” the Captain ordered sternly and rubbed at his sore temples. He looked around the team and saw how mildly injured and worn down everybody was. All could’ve been avoided if—_

_“Sup, Cap,” Tony said through gritted teeth as he pressed an ice pack to his head._

_“’Sup, Cap’? Tony what the hell were you doing on the field? We’re all fucking bruised up over shit that you could’ve easily helped us out of if you just fucking listened to Steve!” Clint yelled as he rested his ankle on the couch._

_“Yeah, yeah, but here’s the thing. There was a kitten on the sidewalk. I did the math and saw that chances of you dying were close to zero, but the kitten would’ve been crushed. Poof, gone. So I—”_

_“Are you saying that saving a kitten is a much higher priority than saving a teammate?” Natasha asked in a low voice that sounded much like blaring sirens._

_“Nope, that’s not what I’m saying, red riding hood. All I’m saying is that Clint winded up with a sprained ankle, that kitten would’ve been dead. Do you guys really want headlines calling you kitten murderers?”_

_“And we’re saying that you could’ve communicated that on the field instead of just doing whatever without letting us know,” Bruce sighed as he tended to red gashes on his arm._

_“I tried! But that kitten was just a few seconds from getting crushed under that building and—”_

_“Do you even hear yourself, Stark?” Steve said with a stern to his voice that Tony had to stand a little straighter to meet. “To hell with my commands and orders, right? Because behold! Tony Stark can’t listen to anyone’s voice but his own.”_

_Tony’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell does that even mean?”_

_“It means that you gotta take a few steps back and let people order you around sometimes,” Bruce said, but all Tony could hear were the words ‘let people order you around,’ and he grew quite defensive and agitated at that._

_“How about no,” he said and tried to buff his chest out. They’re all bigger than him, taller than him, stronger than him, and he feels so small and so alone standing up against them all._

_“Stark, such arrogance won’t be beneficiary for anyone. You may have saved a vulnerable creature, but on the battlefield, we are all at stake, and any mistake could be fatal,” Thor spoke he rubbed dirt out of his cloak._

_“Oh, Come on! You’re a god! And he’s a buff pile of muscles and a sprained ankle is something he can walk off, for fuck’s sake!” Tony tried to yell, but it just came out strained and desperate._

_“Right. You’re always right. How can Tony Stark ever be wrong? How can a narcissist such as yourself ever see the damn faults of his actions?” Natasha said with such heavy sarcasm._

_All these words thrown at him were of a far different species than what the Captain has fired with, which was poisonous and lethal._

_“You really didn’t learn a thing or two from Howard. You took his charisma and determination for impulse and recklessness. Here we are asking you to just follow orders next time, and you make a big deal out of it. It’s like you feed off being agitating.”_

_Tony had lowered his head in shame as he felt the weight of those words land with a loud thud on his shoulders. He wanted to flick them all off and make a run for the lab where he can be with his friendly bots and drown himself in work until he couldn’t see straight._

_“None of this is worth it,” he muttered bitterly to himself, but they all heard it loud and clear as he left off to his lab, but stopped dead in his tracks when the Captain chuckled darkly and said, “Of course. When we talk to you, you decide we aren’t worth your precious time and run off to your hideout,” he seethed. “You’ve been around machines too damn much, you became one!”_

_Later that night, Steve was woken by a nightmare. JARVIS comforted him out of his state of panic enough for him to get in search for something to sate his panic and hunger. He goes to the communal kitchen, but stops right behind the wall of the kitchen’s entrance when he realizes that Stark is present. He peeks his head and sees how the billionaire’s under-eye circles seem to be a deeper shade of purple and puffy all around. He’s standing over a sink with a bottle of scotch, and his hands are shaking. He starts to open the bottle and raises it to his lips as his eyes shut tightly. An internal battle has ensued in the genius’ mind, and Steve found himself mentally cheering “Don’t drink, Stark. Don’t drink.”_

_Tony sighed heavily as he lowered the bottle, then tilted it over the sink and watched its contents pour out into the drain. His lips were pulled to a grimace as he asked JARVIS to start the coffee machine. He dunked the empty bottle into the trashcan and sat hunched in on himself on a stool with his cup of fresh, black coffee. Steve decided to walk in then. He greeted Stark as he sat on a stool across from him and tapped away at his tablet to review paperwork SHIELD sent his way, but Tony noticed how his hands shook and how his figure shuddered all over._

_Tony silently typed away at his phone to communicate with JARVIS via texts._

_**TS:** Did he have a panic attack?_

_**JAY:** He did. It was due to a nightmare._

_**TS:** Raise the temperature by five degrees. Make the lights warmer. And make sure my lab is freezing by the time I reach it. _

_**JAY:** Of course, Sir._

_Tony and Steve felt the room get warmer, and Steve’s hands slowly but surely were steady again. Tony, however, was silently suffering as he started to sweat profusely, but he couldn’t leave the room without ensuring that the soldier isn’t reliving his nightmares. Thus, he got up himself to start the coffee machine again, and prepared Steve a cup of coffee exactly how he likes it._

_None of the day’s altercations were on his mind. True, it had hurt to hear them think so lowly of him, but they always did, and he always deserved it, and he always had to get over it so it doesn’t mess with the team’s work._

_He stirred the warm, creamy drink. His shaky hand put the mug right in front of the Captain’s and he shot a smile the soldier’s way upon eye contact. Steve was caught off guard, but his heart warmed at the gesture, nevertheless. His eyes strained to see the shake on the genius’ hands, and his eyes glistened with the realization that the room has grown too hot for Tony’s liking. Like the desert, like the cave, like Afghanistan, Steve concluded._

_“Thank you,” Steve said, but the genius had already walked away, leaving him alone with a cup of coffee that felt like a warm hug, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, Tony Stark is not a heartless machine._

* * *

“You really like to test how much I love you, huh?” Pepper said through her tears. “I pulled a you during the meeting with the Romanians. Walked out during the middle of the meeting and told them to go fuck themselves when they tried to hold me back. Am I a Stark now?” 

“Did you blow them a kiss before you flicked them off?” Tony smiled. 

She let out a watery chuckle. “No. Forgot to, actually.” 

“Then congratulations. You are not a Stark.” His eyes blinked at her with a glint of love and warmth. The same love and warmth he has for Rhodey, for these were the only two people who know how he’s like and how to love him not in the way that suited them, but in the way that suited him. He wanted nothing but to reach out to her and hug her tightly and smell her signature floral perfume, but he wouldn’t do that to her. It’s enough that she’s sat closely by his side. She’s pure, beautiful, and intelligent. He didn’t want to taint her by his touch. 

“I was so worried over you. God, Tony, don’t do this ever again. No matter how much things get hard. Just... don’t,” she cried as she held onto his hand. He wanted to pull his dirty, dirty hand out of hers, but she kept a strong grip. “You know I'd leave everything and go straight to you whenever you need me. Just one call. One text. Anything. And I'll be there.” 

“I know you would,” he whispered. “Which is why I didn’t call or text. I didn’t want anything to change my mind. I just... wanted to leave.” 

The euphemism doesn’t make it any easier on Pepper to take the state of her friend and long-term boss, and she chokes on her cries before she asks, “Why?” 

He sighed and tried to push down the eerie feeling of _his_ presence in his head. Exhaustion was wearing him thin, but he liked to blame all drugs the doctors must have pumped through his veins to help his body recover, and not the ever-present screams in his mind of _“Stark men are made of iron! Stark men are made of iron!”_ His unseeing eyes glaze over, but he gulps down his cries and answers, “Because I’m not made of iron.” 

A soft knock came to the door before Pepper could open her mouth, and a nurse came in to announce that Agent Fury came to visit. 

“Oh, boy. Yup. I have died. Gone to hell. And I’m about to meet Satan himself,” Tony muttered as Pepper kissed his temple before taking off. 

“I’ll visit you later today, okay? I’m handling the press and everything. Don’t worry, SHIELD’s medical team are helping me keep everything as confidential as possible. The Avengers, too. I’ll see you again. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Pepper,” he said with a heavy sense of sincerity to his words. 

Fury came in after and sat by Tony’s bed. For a solid minute, awkward silence dominated the room. 

“I just wanna understand why you did it,” Fury finally said. 

“Why not?” Tony answered quickly. 

“Quit bullshitting me, Stark. Why did you do it?” Stern, commanding, authoritative. Tony felt cornered, and that’s when he rebelled the most. 

“I don’t know, Captain Hook. Add it to my list of irresponsible and reckless behavior.” 

“I never understand your behavior. But I understand one thing. This was orchestrated. You planned this. Why?” 

“Got tired,” Tony admits. 

“So you get tired and decide to diagnose the Avengers with iron deficiency?” Fury was still stern and heated, but Tony’s lips quirked up in amusement. 

“That’s... that’s a brilliant joke, not gonna lie, but of course I wouldn’t have left off without securing everything. I left Rhodey too many suits with much better upgrades and everything that even Iron Man lacked.” 

Fury sighed heavily. “Tony, we need you.” 

Tony almost dropped his jaw because _did Fury just call me by my first name? And did he just say that I’m needed? And did he just sound sincere?_

“You always get me worried. I never understand you or the reasons behind your actions. And not gonna lie, you are one reckless bastard. But we do need you, Tony.” 

Tony didn’t react much. He just blinked owlishly at the man as he spoke, and Fury sighed when he saw just how numb the genius looked. 

“Your reckless behavior reminds me of him. My son. He did a lot of what you did. Lived life on the edge. It cost him a hefty price. I lost him too soon,” Fury muttered bitterly, and Tony’s wide eyes and tight frown were enough to speak for him. “I could care less about headlines. I just... I worry it’ll kill you one day. The media’s constantly talking about you. The government has tied our arms behind our backs and is not giving you a break. I can’t help but worry. I know I’m sometimes harsh on you. I just don’t know how to get you to stop. I’m sorry.” 

“Did... did Nick Fury just say he’s sorry?” Tony’s jaw hung open as he whispered his disbelief. Fury rolled his eye and smirked. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tony said after a moment of silence. Fury nodded once with a tight grimace. “What was his name?” 

“Nicholas. His name was Nicholas.” 

* * *

Tony slept peacefully for a few hours through the night, and the Avengers plus Rhodey watched over him. They hadn't known they would enjoy the sight of watching someone's chest steadily rise and fall as they breathed, or the sight of the glowing blue arc reactor shine bright and light up the dim room. Not to mention the sight of Tony's face on its own was enough to knock the air out of their chests. He looked so young and stress free. A few strands of hair fell on his face as he stirred, and Natasha delicately brushed them away. She felt her heart warm and break all the same when Tony leaned into the touch.   
  
Steve's bloodshot eyes were transfixed on Tony's arc reactor. His mind had quite literally broken down when he pushed the glowing blue object into the genius' chest, only for it to not have an effect. Now, seeing it glow with life again, he wanted to cry and pray to all gods of every religion his gratitude.   
  
"I didn't know his hair was so soft," Natasha said as she brushed away at yet another strand that fell onto his face.   
  
"We didn't know a lot about him," Clint said with much defeat in his tone.   
  
"I can't wait for you guys to know him," Rhodey said with a fond smile as he leaned his arms on Tony's bed to rest his head by the sleeping man's legs. "You're gonna love him."   
  
At that, Natasha glanced over at the Captain who had looked absolutely wrecked; because of course Steve didn't know much about Tony other than catching glimpses of a few acts he took as the man outside of the egoistic persona that he wore as easily as his armor, but it was enough for him to develop a crush. Steve could easily admit that Tony is quite a handsome man. He has the prettiest eyes Steve's ever seen, a gorgeous smile he didn't blame the population for swooning over, and a lean, muscular body he couldn't help but stare at sometimes. His looks, however, were just a bonus and he did feel optimistic enough to look forward to learning more about the brunet outside of the internet and the media ( _and the tapes,_ Steve added begrudgingly).   
  
Tony stirred again and rested his head against a tube that was wired to the monitors from one end and the arc reactor from the other. "That's not good. Try to get the tube away from his head," Bruce instructed.   
  
Steve's hands reached to cup Tony's face, lifting his head off the tube. Tony leaned into the touch and nuzzled his head against the Captain's large palm, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he sighed in content. Steve didn't dare move his hand away and adjusted his seat so that it would be close enough to the bed without his arm awkwardly left hanging, his other arm folded over the bed for Steve to rest his head against.   
  
"I can't wait to love you how you deserve to be loved," Steve whispered. His voice was barely audible for anyone else in the room to hear as he shut his eyes to the sound of steady heartbeats beeping through the monitor.   
  
_Music to my ears,_ Steve thought. 

* * *

"We wanna make this right. We wanna be given a chance to take care of you and be there for you. We don't want you just accept whatever you think you deserve," Steve said as soon as they took a seat around Tony’s bed. They had come back from a mission, but before they had walked in, they agreed on doing this. 

“You guys really don’t have to—” 

“Nope. Nah-uh. Absolutely not. We do have to do this,” Clint said. “You deserve to hear a proper apology. We never really gave you one. We just kicked the ice cubes under the fridge. But we’re gonna do better. Because we have become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability. We’re shutting that down.” 

Tony didn’t have the time to react to the use of his own quote against him, because Natasha has spoken right after. 

"I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry I never saw the good in you. I'm sorry I let my training and work get in the way of building a genuine friendship with you. I'm sorry," Natasha started, and Tony was taken aback at the genuine emotions her emerald eyes exerted. He nodded awkwardly in acknowledgment and shifted his eyes towards the next speaker: Clint, yet again. 

"Man, I always knew you were cool. I mean, come on! You're Tony Stark. America's heartthrob. And I don't know. I guess I let my perception of you become something more until it became all I knew you as. I guess I just sorta followed with whatever the media spoke of you, and for that, I'm truly sorry. I really, really am." Tony gulped and nodded. 

"You... you were the only one who treated me normally. You weren't constantly on edge on whether I'd hulk out or not. You just let me do my thing and took me for who I am," Bruce paused to smile with gratitude at Tony and his eyes glistened over with hot tears. "I don't think I'll ever recover from hearing your heart stop on me. God, I was terrified. Even the Hulk was terrified and crying in my head. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't pay attention. And I'm so sorry for every harsh word that came out of me in moments of anger." The Hulk's voice laced with Banner's and he said "Sorry, Tin Man. We protect you now. Hulk promise." Tony let out a sweet, watery giggle and nodded his acknowledgment. 

"I have always had much respect for you. Much like our Captain, I was clueless on the whereabouts of this realm and its ways. You taught me so much and I’m forever grateful for what you have given me of knowledge and a home here in Midgard. My dearest apologies to you for my moments of disrespect and ignorance of your pain,” Thor said. 

Finally, it was Steve’s turn to speak. The look etched all over Tony’s face as he locked his eyes spoke volumes, and they were all words the soldier could hear. 

_Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t put out the light of the hope and the troubled heart I have._

“When I started paying attention to you instead of constantly argue and condemn you, I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been. I saw your determination and kindness. My own pride and ego kept me from reaching out to you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took watching these tapes for me to do away with my pride and ego for your sake. I should’ve done that much earlier. Should’ve told you. But I didn’t, and now it all comes out wrong and not how I want it to be and it’s because I fucked up. But Tony, I promise you with every inch of my fiber that I'll do better. I swear by it. I know none of us have your trust, but we’ll earn it. We’ll prove we’re worthy of gaining it, and I promise you that when this day comes, I will never take it for granted. I just need you to believe me.” By the time Steve was done talking, his eyes held warm tears that didn’t pour out until Tony spoke the words the soldier’s tightened chest loosened over. 

“I believe you,” the brunet whispered. “All of you. I... just... please don’t make me regret this. I don’t think I'll be able to recover from there.” 

“We won’t,” Bruce answered quickly. 

“Anyone who dares break such promise shall feel the wrath of Mjolnir!” Thor said with much enthusiasm, and Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Two nurses came in after a few minutes, interrupting a story Clint and Natasha were telling of their time in Budapest. 

“We’ve come up with an alternative form of lithium dioxide. It’s gonna momentarily reverse the blood poisoning. Force the palladium back into the arc reactor rather than just roam freely around. But it’s still temporary, and unfortunately, we really don’t understand how your arc reactor works, so a solution to this is gonna lie in your hands,” a nurse with a syringe in hand said. The other nurse held a metal chip and instructed that Tony takes the arc reactor out. 

The Avengers watched as a burnt metal chip popped out of the arc reactor, and their eyes widened in alarm. “That thing’s the reason why your blood’s poisoned?” Bruce asked as he inspected the burnt chip. 

“Yup,” the brunet gasped out. He quickly put in the new, shiny metal chip and slammed the chunk of metal straight into his chest after the nurses gave him his dosage of the temporary fix and lowered his head in shame when they bandaged his torso again. They were only trying to help, but their hands felt suffocating. He stomached it until they finished and left the room with the note that the dosage will take effect in a few minutes. 

The Avengers kept the brunet company and their conversations didn’t stop. In their heads, they were beating themselves up for not doing this much earlier. Tony was incredibly fun to talk to, and easily put a smile on their faces and made them laugh. Clint laughed until there were tears in his eyes. Natasha laughed until her stomach hurt. Bruce’s cheeks were tinted with a color that wasn’t green, but a red that came out of how much his cheeks had hurt from how much he was laughing. Steve and Thor laughed so loud, the nurses walked in with a glare and a warning. 

But they don’t think they had ever smiled as wide as when the effects of the medicine started kicking in, and they saw the arc reactor glow brighter than ever before.

* * *

He was discharged a few days later, which was nothing short of a miracle to him. SHIELD wanted to put him under surveillance ( _"What a weird way to say suicide watch,"_ he had scoffed) and when that was thrown off the table, they insisted he signs papers that allow him to presume his role as the Avengers' consultant and as Iron Man under the condition of attending therapy sessions at least twice a weak. Tony had raised an eyebrow but signed nevertheless; not because he was going to do by what the papers say, but because he figured he can hack his way into convincing them he's (professionally) keeping it together. Not to mention how Fury did not leave room for negotiation when it came to fixing the arc reactor, and he figured that if he's going to give this whole life thing yet another chance, he might as well. 

He also absolutely had to get discharged because the press had been breathing down Pepper's neck with all the other work she had to keep up with. 

He didn't feel all that great either watching the news broadcast a mission the Avengers were on without him and see all the casualties and destruction that could've been avoided if someone could've flown. When they came back after said mission, they had complained about the missing figure in the sky factor indeed, but they also talked about how dead silent and boring the comms were, and Tony's heart couldn't help but warm at that despite how much he had rolled his eyes over the statement. 

Walking into the tower and seeing the bots whir and spin around enthusiastically at his presence had definitely stirred his emotions. Dum-E, especially, had wrapped its arm around its inventor with its clasps holding onto his shirt and whirred in content. "Thank you for saving me, you little snitching bastard." 

JARVIS' voice came through shortly after. "Welcome home, Sir," he announced, and his voice exerted much more emotion than he remembers programming into him. "I'm glad you're back. Otherwise, who would donate me to a community college if you're not around?" 

Tony giggled. "Yeah, yeah. I missed you too, Jay." 

"I missed you so much, Sir. And I'm happy that I shall continue my service." 

* * *

He still felt that bleak, bugs-crawling-all-over dread. His mind was stuck on what could have been if he had just departed life like he wanted. There was this nagging voice in his mind that kept scolding him and reviewing over his attempt. 

_See, the thing is, your math was incorrect for the first time in history. It would have been successful if you had overdosed on something. This way, if it weren't for the shrapnels mincing your heart, then it would've been the sweet chemicals dissolving into your blood like sugar in water._

It haunted him and tugged at the strings of his brain. He knew that suicidal ideations don't quite die when the body is saved—that they'll continue to nibble on his mind and wear him down until the ideations turn into actions, the attempt into commit. 

Being left alone for just a few minutes was suffocating because there was no voice but his own, and he often found himself panicking in silence until someone picked up a conversation with him again. The Avengers initiated various protocols via JARVIS without his knowledge to try and keep him safe. They really couldn't risk him knowing of said protocols and overriding them in moments where those suicidal thoughts would be the driving force of his impulsive behavior. Besides, the AI has been greatly cooperative. 

Tony, however, seemed to always avoid conversations about anything that revolves around his health, whether that be physical or mental, and he'd find clever ways to change the topic or shut the conversation down immediately. The Avengers stayed patient and refused to pressure him. They figured that the therapy sessions would be able to get to him once he starts attending them. For now, they worked on keeping him safe and under their warm care. 

One day, Steve decided to hang around in the genius' lab. He brought his sketchbook and pencils and a chlorophyll smoothie for Tony, who took a sip and muttered a "Nope." It wasn't the many benefits of said smoothie for someone with a high level of blood toxicity as his, but the Captain's puppy eyes that the genius didn't know would get to him half as much as they did, and he found himself snatching the bottle out of the soldier's grip as he groaned "Ugh, fine!" 

While Steve sketched mindlessly away, Tony was tinkering about. However, a hologram of a tab was among the various other tabs, and it read:

**VIBRANIUM COMPATIBILITY WITH THE ARC REACTOR:**

_**CALCULATING...** _

**(ESTIMATED TIME: 5 HOURS)**

Steve smiled to himself. 

"You really don't gotta babysit me, Cap. I'm not gonna shoot myself in the head if that's what you're here for," Tony muttered. His back was facing the Captain's as he worked. 

"Who said anything about babysitting you? I'm here because the coffee's better. Right, Dum-E?" The addressed bot beeped as it raised its arm up and down, mimicking a nod. 

Tony shook his head and went about with his work. He will never admit to the Captain that hearing the pencil dance around rough paper was easing the paranoia and panic in his mind, or that his banter with JARVIS and his lighthearted argument with Dum-E over how many teaspoons of creamer he wants in his coffee was making him feel safe. He resorted to working and glancing every now and then over the compatibility check. 

Nothing warmed his poisoned heart more than realizing that the Captain has been with him all afternoon, and celebrating along with the bots and AI the results of the compatibility check: 

**SUCCESSFUL!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! leave a comment of your thoughts and opinions!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TAGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED. PLEASE HEED THEM. 
> 
> this fic is at a 100 kudos :') thank you so much!!! also, the encouraging comments have been helping me sooo much with the direction i wanna take with this fic, so thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments!! i look forward to them so much!!
> 
> also, i think we're nearing an end. just two/three chapters left before it comes to end.
> 
> enjoy reading!!!

Tony refused any help when it came to fixing the arc reactor. Steve had tried to help by lifting heavy objects to where Tony would want them to be, but the genius threatened to kick him out. “You can sit around and watch but other than that, don’t do anything. And don’t give me that beaten puppy look of yours, I'm not changing my mind.” So Steve let out a loud puff of air, and marched back to a bench where he continued sketching. Tony quickly took his shirt off to reveal a black tank top he wore underneath, and Steve had to force his eyes back on his sketchbook before he embarrassed himself. He knows that now’s not the time to be expressing his infatuation and what not, and he doesn’t mind it. As long as he gives Tony the time and care that he needs, he’s a happy man. He considers it a privilege that he’s been given the chance in the first place. 

He’d lift his eyes off his sketchbook to see Tony break something off the walls or curse at Dum-E for spraying a fire extinguisher whenever sparks start emitting from a drill. “Am I allowed to help YOU? He's struggling to get the blender to work,” Steve asked as he saw the bot splash liquid chlorophyll all over the counter. “YOU, I swear to god I’m turning you into a wine rack,” Tony muttered and saw the bot lower its arm in shame. “Yeah, you can help him.” 

The truth is that Tony insisted on not being helped when it comes to fixing the arc reactor because he wanted to shut that one voice in his mind up. He really did want to give life another chance. He wanted to see the good in it for once instead of pain. He knows he shouldn’t be alive unless it was for a reason; especially with everything he’s gone through. He seems to be cheating death way too many times for it to be simply be disregarded as a mere coincidence. He still can’t help but yearn for death, but he also yearns for a better life. He really wouldn’t be craving death all that much if his life was simply bearable. 

A sane part of his brain does recognize that a better life requires a better state of mind—something that he is pretty far from. He recalls the list of therapists SHIELD suggested he considers one to meet, but he isn’t ready to take that step yet. He does wish his brain was wired in a way that didn’t scare him of everything. Because Tony Stark was always scared and paranoid, which is why he stood a little straighter than everybody else, or why he had to dominate the room by shooting snarky and sarcastic comments, or why he had to wear obnoxious sunglasses indoors so people wouldn’t see his eyes wander about the room in fear and anticipation of danger coming his way. Tony simply believed that if people didn’t know he was scared, they wouldn’t be able to hold anything against him. 

“Try to drink all of this before working, okay?” Steve came up with a bottle full of green juice and left it off on the floor next to the working man. 

A few hours passed by with Tony breaking things, putting them back together, lifting off heavy tech, and JARVIS supplying data with whatever is asked of him. 

At some point, Natasha came down offering help and was shut down. She sat around for a while reading a book next to Steve, and then played a game of virtual basketball against Butterfingers. She demanded JARVIS that she be named Virtual Basketball Lord on the score board after she had broken Tony’s high score. “JARVIS you follow with that and I swear to god I’m donating you to the nearest community college.” 

“Sore loser,” she muttered as she stuck her tongue out at the genius, who simply scrunched his face and stuck his tongue back at her. Steve watched on with amusement as they lightheartedly argued over who’s the MVP of virtual basketball for a solid fifteen minutes, before Tony had to eventually focus on soldering wires together. 

Bruce showed up a few minutes later with bowls of food to the people residing in the lab, and Rhodey showed up shortly after with extra boxes of doughnuts. Tony took a break to enjoy the food he’s been spoiled with before he delved yet again into work. 

A few minutes later, a ring was set up around the lab, and Tony handed each one of them protective glasses. “It’s gonna get real messy and real bright so just stay aside and watch in silence.” 

They did by his orders and watched as a thin beam of laser shot out of a machine. Tony kept stirring a wheel around for the laser beam to finally meet a brick of metal set up in the middle of the ring. It glowed brighter and brighter, and JARVIS counted down the time it would take for the laser beam to shut down from there. 

“Ten... nine... eight...” he heard the British voice say, but by the time the AI counted down to six, he could hear the people sat behind him count as well, and he smiled despite himself. 

“Five... four... three... two... one!” 

The light got blindingly bright before it dimmed down quickly, but a small triangle kept its bright glow. Tony threw his glasses aside as he approached the glowing object, the four people in the room following him closely by to sneak a curious look. 

“Congratulations, Sir,” Jarvis chimed in cheerfully. “You have created a new element.” 

“Shut the front door! This is so cool!” Bruce exclaimed as Tony carefully placed the triangle piece of glowing metal in an arc reactor. He slid his hand under his tank top to take his poisoning reactor off and exchange it for the new one, and gasped as soon as he felt his heart beat easier than before. 

“Does it feel any different?” Bruce asked in wonder. 

“Kinda does. My heart feels light...? I can’t tell exactly. Anyway, it works and I’m not getting poisoned, so I guess it’s cool,” Tony shrugged. 

“You guess it’s cool? You literally came up with a new element right in front of our eyes!” Steve said as he flailed his arms. “You really don’t give yourself as much credit as you should.” 

“This calls for a celebration,” Rhodey said as he shoved a piece of doughnut in the genius mouth, to which he accepted with a smile. Steve couldn’t help but crave this casual intimacy with the brunet. _It’s gonna take time,_ he reminded himself. For now, he smiled fondly at the genius as he smiled and giggled when Rhodey smeared melted pink glaze over his cheek. 

“Yup. Let’s go up to the kitchen right now and bake a cake or something,” Natasha said. 

“I’m gonna go up there just to get a cup of coffee. Other than that, I feel really sleepy,” Tony said as his eyes visibly drooped. 

“You don’t gotta be so sad as to sleep off your shame of being beaten in virtual basketball. It’s okay, Tony. I’ll let you win when we spar sometime again,” Natasha teased. 

“Coffee, then I'm dragging you with me here until I beat your ass in a competitive round,” Tony said as he put his once discarded shirt on over his tank top and followed his team out of the lab. 

* * *

“Ayye,” Clint beamed when he saw the small glowing triangle in the middle of Tony’s reactor and gave him a fist bump. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

“Nope. No celebrations. Just coffee,” Tony muttered as his eyes drooped. He really was incredibly sleepy and weary, and a pounding headache was taking over. He took a seat on a stool by the kitchen counter and slumped against it. He would never admit to this to the team, but he did feel immensely grateful that they had stayed while he created his permanent fix of the arc reactor. After all, the concept in itself had reminded him of the sleepless nights he spent alongside Yinsen in the hot, humid cave building the device. It’s why he had avoided looking for any other solutions until now. 

He doesn’t let his mind wander around that thought or delve into these memories again. Especially not when Natasha takes a seat next to him and talks to him in a low voice while everybody else prepares food and coffee. 

“When shall we face off in an epic virtual basketball battle?” she asked with a smirk. 

“You really are not gonna let that go, huh?” he muttered as he rubbed at his eyes. “Tomorrow. I’m too tired today. But holy shit you’re good at it.” 

“And you’re good at hacking,” she says matter-of-factly, and he doesn’t have to ask to know what she’s referring to. They both know exactly what she’s talking about, and he just looks at her with a smirk and mutters “Russian spies, man.” 

“I’m not gonna sit here and give you a lecture on why you need to go or the benefits of therapy. We knew you wouldn’t take up on it. But SHIELD being SHIELD, they didn’t listen. But here’s the thing, no one’s gonna force you to go. This is the kinda thing that you just gotta be ready for to approach. I’m just here to tell you that when you’re ready, I know great therapists who would do whatever it takes to help you. You just gotta let me know.” 

Tony blinked owlishly at her for a few seconds. “Thank you,” he whispered. He was relieved to know that there was someone—no, _a team_ —on his side for once. 

“You don’t gotta thank me. You just gotta let JARVIS call me Virtual Basketball Lord.” 

“Absolutely not, Wendy’s.” 

After a few minutes, food and coffee were put on the table, and the Avengers minus Thor who had to be in Asgard for some time gathered around to eat. Tony didn’t really have much of the food, and resorted to drinking two cups of coffee. “Tony, can you please finish your food?” Steve said when he noticed the sleepy engineer’s plate was barely touched. 

“Nah-uh.” 

“Tony, your body still needs to recover from all that palladium. Please eat,” Bruce says. 

“Nope.” 

“Steve,” Natasha said as a wicked smile spread over her face. “Give him the look.” 

“What —oh,” Tony faltered as he looked into Steve’s baby blue eyes. He wore those puppy eyes again and Tony was refusing to admit that he fell weak to those. Something about them was soft and human—nothing like the poster that was hung above his bed. “Nope. Nah-uh. No. Not falling for that. Not—oh my fucking god.” 

The team chuckled when Tony groaned frustratingly as he watched the Captain pout. “Fine! Jesus, Cap. Is that how you killed the Nazis? You just gave them those puppy eyes?” 

“Why, yes,” Steve beamed triumphantly. 

“I’ll never understand how they never thought of shooting your legs,” Clint muttered in between spoonfuls of food. 

“Right?!” Tony agreed. “His shield’s the size of a dinner plate.” 

They continued munching on food and exchanging conversations, until Rhodey got a call for a mission, and left off with the note of coming back soon. Steve watched as Tony hugged him tightly and nuzzled his head into his best friend’s neck before letting go with a frown. “Don’t worry, tin man. I’ll be around soon.” 

Steve definitely did not miss the look on Rhodey’s face to him that said _look out for him_ , and he nodded with a friendly smile that the Colonel returned. 

Later that night, Tony decided against sleeping and stayed around for a movie, per Clint’s request. He watched with heavy, sleepy eyes as Clint and Bruce argued over whether they should watch yet another Star Wars movie or a documentary. Steve sneaked from around them to get the remote controller and put on a smug smile when the two men groaned in defeat upon The Great Gatsby playing. “You and your boring literature remakes, Rogers,” Natasha muttered. 

They all got comfortable in different positions whether it be on the couch or on the floor. Tony did not mean to get too comfortable, however. Especially not as comfortable as to easily rest his head against the Captain’s lap. The last thing on his mind was the hot coffee that spilled all over his shirt as he drifted off to an uneasy, restless sleep.

* * *

_His captors had barged in on him and Yinsen while they were sipping on bland, bitter soup. It was all he came to know the taste of ever since he's been kidnapped, and if they were lucky enough, they'd be given pieces of bread coated in flour and dirt._

_Yinsen shot out of his seat immediately and urged Tony to do the same. A man with a thick beard started speaking a language Tony understood through Yinsen's translations._

_"They say they need you to build the Jericho and have it ready by next month, or there will be consequences," Yinsen murmured._

_"For the millionth time, I'm not building shit," Tony said through gritted teeth, which the captors didn't need much translation to understand his response to their request._

_The man smirked as he spoke of something to the translating man. Yinsen was stunned for a solid minute or two before he turned to Tony with a sad look on his face. Did Tony's heart or the heavy chunk of metal in his chest fall to his feet? The kidnapped billionaire didn't know, but he did know that the air grew much more humid than before. "Yinsen? What did they say?"_

_Yinsen gulped before he spoke the words as if they burnt his tongue. "They say if you don't build the Jericho, they'll... they'll..."_

_But Yinsen wasn't given the chance to carry on with his translations as the car battery Tony was hooked to was shoved aggressively against his tender chest for him to carry, and he soon found himself dragged by two powerful men outside of his and Yinsen's shared cave room. He tried to fight off and pushed his legs against their direction, but a harsh smack to the back of his head weakened his senses, and he found himself being dragged through a long, narrow tunnel. He clutched at the car battery in despair and hoped that they wouldn't beat him to a pulp like they did the last time. He was unconscious a whole day and bleeding out for days on end._

_But when they came to a halt by the entrance of another cave room, he found himself reversing the wishes of his prayers. Hot, sickly dread overcame him. The tight clutch he had on the car battery loosened in his state of shock, and he wished that he could be understood when he screamed and shouted and prayed for anything but this. Because inside that room was a dirty mattress thrown carelessly on the ground surrounded by a bunch of naked men. A tub filled with water was placed in the corner of the room._

_"No, no, nonononono... please don't do this. Don't fucking do this! I'll build it and I'll do whatever you fucking want just don't—"_

_Another loud smack landed on the back of his head, and he cried as he was being carried off the floor and thrown into the mattress. His head hit against the car battery that flew out of his grip when he landed with a loud thud, and surely enough, blood was oozing out of his temple._

_They laughed in delight as hands worked over his body. Hands shoving his head down against the mattress, hands holding him up in the desired position, hands pulling his pants down, hands spreading him apart, hands spanking his exposed skin..._

_He tried so hard to squirm his way out. He tried to kick, punch, pinch, bite, scratch, until one of them pulled at his hair to face a bald man with crooked teeth say "You do more, we kill Yinsen and we no let you go."_

_He let out a miserable sob as his head was shoved yet again against the dirty mattress. They laughed again as he stopped fighting and cried, desperately holding onto the car battery under him._

_He felt that awful sharp, white pain he thought he wouldn't feel ever again when a man forced himself in behind him. He screamed until his throat felt raw and until the man had pushed all of himself in. His screams turned to loud, frantic sobs as the man picked up a merciless speed. He could feel warm blood trickle down his thighs, and his sobs only got louder from there._

_His mind refused to grant him that sweet dissociation he tried to get a grip on. He was hyperaware of everything. The hands, the grunts, the pain, the smell of must and dirt, the throbbing pain in his chest, the heat radiating off the car battery, their voices and laughs, his father's image on the forefront of his mind as he laughed along with them..._

_It was too much to take. Yet, his hair was pulled on as a man positioned himself right in front of his face, and it truly didn't take a genius to comprehend what was supposed to happen. However, his brain did take its precious time trying to wrap itself around the pain and humiliation, which resulted in a hard punch colliding against his jaw. The punches didn't stop from there, and Tony's face soon felt numb._

_The man shoved himself straight into Tony's trembling, open mouth, and the brute and merciless speed was nothing short of the night before Christmas._

_Tony found no escape. Even his mind worked against him. His malnourished body had given up on the fight and focused on keeping itself on all fours. He just prayed that this would be over with soon. But since when did Tony's prayers ever fall on attentive ears._

_Right after the men finished and forced every drop of cum inside of him, another man manhandled and positioned Tony right above him._

_"I-I can't. T'weak to m-move," he said as he was under the illusion that the man would want Tony to ride him._

_The room's hot air wrapped its hands around his neck as he felt another man stand behind him. He turned his head to look and felt his mind glitch in terror._

_"Y-You're gonna t-tear me a-a part! I c-can't! I'm g-gonna die p-please d-don't just w-wait until h-he's done oh g-god PLEASE LISTEN TO ME PLEASE UNDERSTAND ME PLEASE—"_

_A slap against his face interrupted his begs, and he choked when not hot air wrapped its hands around his neck, but the man under him did. He felt the men force themselves in him with much trouble. Another man had spread him apart in an attempt to make it easier on them, but it only encouraged the mixture of more blood and cum drip out of his abused hole and travel down his trembling thighs._

_He cried out as he felt both men shove relentlessly inside of him. His screams were so loud, they had turned silent. And his awful, sick mind still kept him hyperaware of it all._

_The man under him pressed his hands against his windpipe, and Tony choked violently and tried to pry his hands away, only for his own hands to get held in place behind him and tied up with rough rope. He continued to choke for long, torturous minutes, until he was finally let go of upon them finding their release. He fell atop the man's chest as his body heaved uncontrollably, and they laughed loudly at his weak, vulnerable state._

_More men took turns on him, each one adding a newfound layer of pain and humiliation he didn't know was possible. He refused to count, but his awake and aware mind did the math for him like it always naturally did, and the number stopped at fifteen._

_A few men have cum all over his face and watched as he cried in utter humiliation, other men untied him and forced him to hold the car battery away from the water as they shoved his head into a tub while thrusting into his sore and bleeding hole. He was kicked and punched often in between rounds. Everything hurt. They were kind enough as to put his clothes back on, albeit blood and cum stained them upon the contact against his skin. He knew that when he goes back to his shared room, Yinsen would clean him up and tend to his wounds just fine, but it embarrassed Tony immensely as it is. He doesn't even want to imagine the disgust that would be plastered all over the kidnapped doctor's face at just the mere sight of him._

_He was carried off his feet and properly dragged to his room again. They quite literally threw him on the ground, and he braced himself by holding onto his source of life with all the energy and might he had left. The side of his head fractured as he hit the hard ground. He was unmoving as everything blurred around him, and that sweet sense of dissociation has only started to hit him now. Yinsen's silhouette was getting closer and closer, but he couldn't make anything out of his movements or gentle hands that cupped his cheeks to inspect the wounds. He wanted to tell the man to quit touching him, to spare himself the trouble of touching something as filthy as him._

_He was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, and as his eyes drooped heavily against himself, he heard Yinsen say two words: "Wake up."_

_“Wake up.”_

_“Wake up.”_

“Tony, wake up!” Steve exclaimed with much despair in his voice. Tony finally opened his eyes in wide horror as he sat up and cowered away from the figures in the room. “N-No m-more no m-more n-no more p-please,” he hugged his knees as he rocked back and forth against the couch, _or was it the hard wall of the cave?_ He couldn’t tell. All he knew is that he had to get away from the men looming over him. He cowered away and tried to make himself smaller. “I’ll b-build it j-just p-please d-don't t-touch me p-please it h-hurts p-please p-please I’ll b-build it I’ll b-build it...” 

Steve, Clint, Bruce, and Natasha exchanged looks of concern, with Steve’s face not being entirely surprised since he had already known of the abuse Tony went through during his time in Afghanistan, but it did break his heart to hear Tony cry in his sleep for his captors to not hit him again, to not touch him again, to not rape him again... 

The first thing they learned to do is to crouch down to Tony’s level of height as to not scare him off further. Then, they had a silent argument of who should be the one to speak. Steve rushed for a pencil and a piece of paper on the coffee table, and in a haste, wrote Natasha a note. 

THERE WERE NO WOMEN WHERE HE WAS. YOUR VOICE WOULD MOST PROBABLY BE ABLE TO SNAP HIM BACK TO REALITY. 

Natasha nodded once and started speaking in a soft, hushed voice. The room got colder, which was JARVIS’ way of trying to help. “Hey, Tony. You’re in the tower. The Avengers tower. It’s November twenty-first. You’re safe and in New York.” 

Natasha tried as best as she could to say the things she often heard Pepper say to the engineer behind closed doors during her time as Natalie. Although Tony never panicked around her ( _Perhaps he did, but was I paying attention?_ She thought), she would always hear Pepper remind him of the time and the setting whenever he grew agitated throughout the day. Of course, Natasha had known of Tony’s case of PTSD, she just never really saw much of the symptoms, and therefore, ignored it completely. _Stupid,_ Natasha cursed at herself. 

“N’tasha?” Tony hiccuped as he lifted his head enough to peak his eyes through. He blinked the tears away to get a better view of the redhead before him. 

“Did you mean Virtual Basketball Lord? Yeah, it’s me,” Natasha smiled softly as the engineer let out a watery chuckle. He unfolded himself from his tense hold and looked around awkwardly at the three men sat before him. 

“H-Hi.” 

“Hey, Tony,” Steve smiled. 

“M’sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” 

_It’s not your fault._

Such a simple statement that sent shivers down his spine. He marveled at it and at the baby blue eyed man who said it. He needed to hear this sentence way too many times, but instead was always told the opposite of it. He still didn’t quite trust the statement, but it did feel nice to hear it echo through his skull. It was a breath of fresh air amidst all the panic and terror in his mind. 

“Uh, did I talk or... um... say anything?” Tony asked nervously. 

“Yes, you did,” Bruce said. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can always hear you talk about it when you're ready and whenever you want to. But we are sorry you went through what you went through.” 

“Uh, o-okay,” he replied awkwardly and got up. He wanted to make a run for his floor where he could work himself into oblivion and avoid nightmare-full sleep. The team suggested he stays with them for a little longer, but he insisted on going to his lab and they didn’t pressure him any further. 

He made it to his lab and tinkered about. He was weary and sleepy despite the drill in his head that kept him up and drenched in anxiety. He appreciated that the team didn't pressure him into hanging around with them, but now his loneliness was lurking in the shadows behind his eyelids. 

He really wanted to be normal. Not feel glorious happiness, just normalcy. His happiness was simply a light switch and life never stopped flicking its finger. Thus, he couldn't expect much of it lighting up his life, not when he has a light shining through his shirt to remind him of his misery, anyway. He wondered if he'll ever come to cherish that glowing blue instead of being ashamed of it. 

And this is why he had come to hate his solitude. He always asked for it, he couldn't deny that, in fear of being a burden. But he hoped for someone to see right through his perfidious confidence and stay around, to lift the burden off his shoulders for some time until he gains enough strength to carry it again. 

"Sir, Captain Rogers is approaching the laboratory. Should I let him in?" JARVIS asked. 

"Yeah, let him in." 

A part of his brain couldn't help but protest heavily against this. He still felt small and vulnerable under the Captain's gaze, but he also found an overwhelming sense of comfort and safety around him. It baffled him. One minute he's the Captain America he could never amount to, and _his_ presence in his mind would knock the air out of his diminished lungs; the next he's the Steve Rogers he could never amount to his purity and beauty and strength and nobility and _oh god why is the world blurry?_

He wiped profusely at his eyes with the hems of his shirt when Steve entered. He seemed to be carrying a book. "Weren't you sleepy?" 

"Not anymore," Tony answered reluctantly. 

Steve nodded and sat on the bench by Tony's desk. He watched as Tony's eyes drooped and his hands shook with tremors induced by his deprivation of sleep but didn't comment. He casually read his book and occasionally engaged Tony in light conversation whenever he seemed to breathe a little harsher. Steve felt whole and happy whenever he put a genuine smile on the brunet's face, but he couldn't help but feel immense sadness wash over him whenever Tony forced himself to stay up straight and widened his eyes to keep them from shutting. 

When it got to a point where Tony's eyes were bloodshot red and his hands couldn't keep steady for the love of him, Steve said, "Sleep. I'll stay right here if you want." 

"Mhmm," Tony hummed as his eyes closed. He opened them with much struggle to address the Captain one more time. "Read out loud for me. Doesn't matter what part," he slurred and rested his head against his folded arms. 

Steve smiled warmly and read the excerpt from the page he was on out loud for Tony to fall asleep to. 

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... And one fine morning— 

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." 

He shut his book. "Sleep well, Tony," he whispered as he folded his arms over the table to rest his head upon. He took one last look at Tony before he shut his own eyes. "So we beat on," Steve whispered. "So we beat on..." 

Tony slept peacefully through the night, free of nightmares. 

* * *

Tony twirled around on his chair as he listened on to Fury’s debriefing of their most recent mission. Steve and Natasha had been on a mission with the objective of bugging a secret underground facility of a terrorist organization, and Tony had hacked his way through the databases via said bugs. Fury was reviewing over the information he was supplied with, and Tony was too bored to care for what the director was saying. 

“Earth to Stark!” 

“Yes, dear?” Tony snapped out of his trance.

“You got your hands on the IP address of their manufacturing company?” 

“Duh. Who do I look like?” Tony said as he threw a flashcard Fury’s way. “JARVIS says it’s located somewhere in California. Whoever these guys are, they’re good. ‘Cause they’ve gone fully incognito and it’s giving my AI a hard time to get to the bottom of this.” 

Fury nodded. “We’ll work with whatever we have. These guys are just as sneaky as HYDRA. We’ll see what we get to by the next meeting.” 

The team rose off their seats as they went to make their exit, except for Tony who stayed behind. He got up and made his way over to Fury to hand him an invitation card. “Hope you’re not so busy Thursday night,” he said before he took off. 

Fury doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s usually over something as heartwarming as seeing a cursive font invite him to the Nicholas Charity Fundraising gala. 

* * *

“David, you absolute moron, you were supposed to pour buttermilk instead of cream!” Tony yelled at the TV. 

“Watch him get kicked out of the competition in a few minutes because he’s such a fucking idiot!” Clint yelled shortly after. 

It all started when Bruce was peacefully watching Hell’s Kitchen and occasionally took notes of recipes and cooking mistakes to avoid whenever chef Gordon Ramsey started yelling. The string of clever insults said by the head-chef caught Clint’s attention, and he quickly ran off to drag Tony from his lab to join him in making a list of all the insults they could learn and use. A few hours into watching the show, they grew more educated on the cooking process, and yelled along with the host of the competition at the mistakes the contesting chefs would make. 

“Seeing as you guys are so enthusiastic and passionate about this, I take it you would be so enthusiastic about helping me in the kitchen,” Bruce said. 

“We’re not enthusiastic about the cooking, we’re here for the competition and insults and—damn it, Joe! That gravy looks runny as hell!” Clint yelled yet again. 

“Damn right! You can see he added too much butter. My man Joe’s going home for sure,” Tony said as he shook his head at the contestant’s futile efforts. 

They continued watching on until they finished the season. After that, Tony ran off to the kitchen to grab two pieces of toast. “JARVIS, can you call the Captain up here? Tell him it’s an emergency.” 

A few minutes later, Steve came up looking like a lost puppy. “Guys, is everything alright? JARVIS said it was an emer—” 

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence as Tony tiptoed on his feet and put two slices of bread on each side of his face. The Captain could feel the brunet’s minty breath fan over his face as he said, “What are you?” 

Steve pulled on a pseudo disappointed face as he answered, “An idiot sandwich.” He had seen a video somewhere on the internet of this, and he smiled when the bunch erupted in a fit of childish giggles. Natasha’s phone could be heard making a click sound as she finished recording. “I’m never deleting this off my camera roll.” 

“Okay, but I’m not an idiot! Take it back, Tony!” the Captain crossed his arms and feigned taking offense. Tony rolled his eyes, but smirked as he said, “I have a thing for idiots, anyway,” and watched Steve’s jaw drop to the floor. 

“Steve, you still here?” Clint said as he waved a hand over the Captain’s face. 

“Uh... yeah, holy shit, yeah,” he said as his cheeks blushed. 

“Awh! Look at him blush!” Natasha cooed. 

“I’m not! I’m just...” 

“Shy because Tony flirted with you? Yeah, we know,” Bruce said. 

Tony watched on with a wide smile on his face as the Captain tried to get himself out of the awkward situation, and he felt his own cheeks heat up when Steve shyly made eye contact with him again. 

“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice came up. “I must tell yo—” 

“Not now, Jay,” Tony said as he started the coffee machine. 

“But Sir—” 

“Mute.” _Work can wait,_ Tony thought.

They gathered around for dinner just in time for Thor’s arrival, and fell into lighthearted banter before Natasha’s phone rang. The team fell into a heavy silence when her eyes narrowed and widened. Tony’s guts twisted as he anticipated the worst. “Romanov? Everything alright?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she hung up and immediately ran off to the living room where she opened the TV, the team following closely behind. 

“—chant of Death. He had publicly stated on the very same day he had returned from Afghanistan that all of his weapon manufacturing companies would shut down for good. So it is extremely bizarre to see all those missiles launch straight from his California manufacturing branch. Is this a man we could really trust?” A reporter said through the large screen.

Tony watched in stunned silence as videos of Stark Industries missiles bombed poor cities, villages, and “Gulmira,” he whispered as he saw dead bodies get carried out of rubble and debris. 

“JARVIS, what is this? When the fuck did all of this happen?” he whispered as he shook his head at the sight of a woman scream and try to pull her husband’s crushed figure from under a collapsed building. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Sir. The terrorist organization Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers were tasked to go on a mission against are known as the Double Division have access to various discontinued models of Stark Industries weaponries. Their manufacturer has supplied them with said weapons years back, at least the scans of the contracts I have found say so. Their manufacturer had to supply those weapons after altercations revolving around unresolved debt.” 

“JARVIS,” Tony’s voice was low, shaky, and dripping in fear of the unknown. “What aren’t you telling me?” The Avengers exchanged looks of alarm as they noticed the AI’s hesitation in giving the answer.

“Their manufacturer was Obadiah Stane.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff hanger because as much as i like being nice to y'all and giving y'all regular updates, i also like being evil :) 
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading!! please leave a comment of your thoughts and opinions!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay. i've been dealing with shitty writer's block, but i think im back on track now! 
> 
> enjoy reading :)

“As I have said, these contracts have been issued and manipulated by the former CEO Obadiah Stane, not Mr. Stark,” Pepper explained through the phone. The TV reporter nodded in response through the screen. “As CEO, he held a lot of power in his hands. Really, all what was needed out of Mr. Stark was a mere signature, which Mr. Stark would not have signed if he knew the contracts were heavily manipulated.” 

Pepper tapped her fingernails against the coffee table. Tony couldn’t help but notice that her red nail polish is chipped. 

“Was it not made known that the weapons would be shipped off to the terrorist organization? On what basis has Mr. Stark signed these contracts?” 

“The contracts that you have on screen clearly state a single buyer’s name rather than an organization. Whatever the buyer chooses to do with what he has bought is out of our hands. We didn’t even know those weapons would be shipped outside of the USA. We do, however, admit that our former CEO has been involved in shady business. No denying that. And we ask the general public to separate the company, as well as Mr. Stark, from this narrative.” 

Except he can’t—and doesn’t want to—be excluded from the narrative. In his mind, he is the narrative. He hears Pepper’s soft tapping against the coffee table, sees Rhodey's face on various TV channels trying to reason with the government, sees Natasha and Clint hack through the organization, sees Steve on the phone with SHIELD agents discussing the whereabouts of the organization’s leader, sees Bruce and Thor look through piles of documents from various boxes for whatever Obadiah has left behind, and he hates himself. 

“Well, how do you explain the Californian branch of the company still up and running?” The reporter asks. 

Pepper moved the phone away to sigh, “We have found documents of contracts signed between Obadiah and the same buyer regarding said branch. As CEO, I have received contracts that I now realize must have been fabricated by said organization regarding the renovation of the manufacturing company. The Double Division has gone fully incognito from there up until their recent attack on Gulmira. I can assure you and the public that Stark Industries and SHIELD are working to get to the bottom of this. This is much bigger than simple business trades.” 

Although this issue was up for mostly SHIELD to take care of, the media and the American government didn’t stop from there. They kept pushing the narrative of “Can Tony Stark really be trusted as Iron Man?” to which Colonel James Rhodes answered the senators and generals with “You do realize this is an issue that another man should be blamed for, right? The only real problem here being that said man is dead. Iron Man will always outweigh the liabilities. We are far past explaining this again.”

Still, they kept pushing, displaying images and videos of Gulmira. Children crying. Parents screaming with wild abandonment. People trying to shield themselves with bricks. STARK INDUSTRIES plastered on a missile before it explodes. Yinsen’s voice echoing through his skull, _“I come from Gulmira.”_ A beautiful hometown that would’ve prospered if it weren’t for the debt a dead man left him off to pay. 

No wonder why Obadiah would shove drink after drink right in front of a twenty-one-year-old Tony to sign various documents. And as he grew older, the cups got fuller, the alcohol tasted stronger, the world became hazier, the signatures grew sloppier, more rubies scattered around as they melted and stained his hands. 

_“For the people. For America. You’re protecting us,”_ Obadiah would smile. 

But there was no war and he wasn’t a soldier. He was the Merchant of Death, and he realizes that no debt would be hefty enough to hold him accountable for all the destruction he has caused. 

“Sir, I have found valuable information,” JARVIS declared. “I have located the leader of the organization, and I have sent a tip for SHIELD agents to capture him. They are currently three minutes away from his exact location.” 

A few minutes later, Fury calls to confirm JARVIS’ words. “We found him, but he refuses to speak,” he tells Tony through the phone. “Says he’ll only answer to you.” 

* * *

The Avengers walk through the long, narrow hallways of the SHIELD facility. They are all protectively surrounding Tony, and it doesn’t put his mind at ease. His sense of paranoia is at an all-time high, and he’s anticipating the worst. It doesn’t make it any better for him to know that the man he’s about to interrogate is a Russian mad man. “Apparently, they are quite a diverse group,” Fury had explained. Natasha had told him to not worry if the man starts speaking in Russian, she would be in the comms of his earpiece translating his every word if so. 

Still, it sent his troubled heart into a frenzy of panic. The man had not only demanded that he speaks to Tony Stark and no one else, but that they be alone in the interrogation room the whole time, or he won’t speak at all. 

“Don’t worry. The double glass of the room will allow us to see everything from the outside,” Steve told him. 

_But I won’t be able to see you from the inside_ , he had wanted to say. 

Once they had reached the interrogation room, Fury left off a couple of pieces of advice and let him know that he will be monitoring through the comms as well. He was given an earpiece and Steve’s worried look. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered and entered the yellow hued room. The man was tied to a chair in the exact middle of the room dressed in all black. 

“Ah! Anthony Stark!” the man let out a faux beam of excitement. 

“You seem like quite the fan, huh?” Tony said as he regained a sense of that causality and snark of his. “I’d offer an autograph except for the fact that you’ve got my weapons for one. Mind telling me how you got those?” 

“It’s a long story,” the man smiled. 

“I got time. How did you get the weapons?” 

“Once upon a time, there lived a filthy rich man named Howard Stark, who owed us a lotta money. But he died. Rest in peace, Howard. You’re greatly missed,” the man looked up to the ceiling for a few seconds in reminiscence. “Obadiah took over because poor Anthony was still a little guy. But Oba-fucking-diah didn’t have the money. And he couldn’t give us much because you were still too fucking young to sign a few papers. Legal shit and blah blah blah interfered. So old man Obi suggested a new form of payment. One we were very, very pleased with.” The man put on a wicked toothy smile that forced Tony to gulp. “What was it?” he asked through gritted teeth. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk... don’t rush me. You would’ve known I like to take my time. Do things at my own pace... but how would you know when you were so drunk?” 

Tony was thrown off for a few seconds. “What the fuck are you talking ab—” 

“Fast forward to when you are finally old enough to sign shit, the manufacturing started. And Obadiah gave us all the weapons to make up for the money your old man owed us. Such a shame you shut it all down a few years later. Well, not quite as shut down as you thought. Obadiah was nice enough to grant us access to the manufacturing company’s branch in sunny Cali.” 

“I ordered that—” 

“That they shut down the company’s branch. Yeah, we know. We were the so-called ‘construction workers’ Obadiah hired. We don’t quite like taking orders, honestly. And Obadiah couldn’t really say no to us. Not when we threatened to tell you everything.” 

“Tell me everything about what? And why now did you decide to fire those missiles? Why Gulmira?” 

“We were based in Gulmira. We were all about business. None of that bombing cities and what not. Shit got out of hand and business itself got out of hand. So we resided in America because, if you think about it, this country’s just one big weapon manufacturing company. Not to mention how your dad was so nice to us. Soon, our business was back on track. Our men back in Gulmira got the business back on track there as well. We were living the American dream! Or shall I say the Stark dream?” The man laughed in delight at his own joke. 

“Let me guess, business in Gulmira plummeted again. They diverted from the contract recently, didn’t they? That’s why you bombed them?” 

“Bingo. You really are a genius, huh? Or perhaps a really good murderer?” The man smiled at Tony. “They didn’t just divert from the contract. They killed our men back there. We're running out of weapons to ship over to them. They fucking knew this. So they fucking killed our men and got their loot. We had to send out a message, a warning.” 

“Innocent people died,” Tony seethed. 

“So? Innocent people die while the Avengers kick ass, and nobody calls you bastards ‘terrorists.’ Besides, that’s kinda rich coming from the Merchant of Death.” 

Tony suppressed a frustrated sigh. “You slipped.” 

“Like hell we slipped... But it was worth it.” 

“Gulmira’s undergoing a civil war now. Neither your men nor the other guys are winning.” 

“Does anybody ever win in a war? But we believe that you can kill the messenger, not the message. And we definitely let them know of ours.” 

Tony looked over the double glass of the room. He gulped and let out a shaky breath. He should be relieved that the man confessed to everything. Clearly, getting caught is the least of his concerns when he had already accomplished what he wanted. But he was keeping something from Tony, and the genius couldn’t quite figure it out, or perhaps he was afraid to. 

“That... other form of payment you were talking about. What was it?” 

“Oh, Anthony. Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember me?” the man fake cooed. “You’re gonna break my heart.” 

“What the fuck was it?” 

“Shame,” the man shook his head. “I’ve been in bed with you far more than I have with my own wife. And you still don’t remember me?” 

Cold dread washed over Tony’s body. He took a step backwards as if the words had pushed him. He could hear Fury instructing him to get out. “This isn’t worth it, Stark. He’s messing with you. We’ve already got everything we wanted out of him.” 

But Tony wasn’t listening. Tony was rummaging through his brain for the faintest of memories of the man before him, with no avail. “I don’t remember,” he muttered in defeat. 

“Of course, you don’t. Obadiah made you drink so much. Are you sure your liver’s fine? We honestly thought you would die before we could—” 

“Obadiah would get me drunk for you?” 

“Obadiah got you drunk for all of us. You really remember none of it?” The man raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Not even the mornings after?” 

“Tony get out of there! We’ll deal with him accordingly just get out!” He heard a feminine voice say in his ears. 

But he was frozen in place. His brain melted against the walls of his skull. He can’t remember this man let alone the other men who must have violated him all the same. All he remembers is Obadiah, and his heart aches. 

“I don’t remember,” Tony repeats. “What did you do to me?” 

“You mean what did Obadiah do to you. The thought of just merely touching you, let alone fucking you, didn’t cross our minds until he suggested it,” the man said with a casual shrug. “Obadiah whored you out.” 

His knees weakened, but he had to stand his ground. The yellow hued room suddenly became too bright for his eyes to bear. The voice blaring through his left ear was silenced upon him taking the earpiece out and throwing it away carelessly. The step he had taken back was replaced by one step taken forward. Then Two. Then three. Then he was standing within an inch of the Russian man. 

“I don’t remember you,” he whispered. “But you took something from me. And I’m angry.” 

Tony knew nothing but rage. All he saw was the yellow room, the yellow sunflowers, the chunks of rubies, the golden frames, the maroon silk, the pearly whites of his father’s smile, the navy blue of Obadiah’s suit, the long and narrow staircases, the long and narrow hallways leading from one cave to another, the dirt on the mattress, the red on his hands, the red on his hands, the red on his hands, _why is there red on my hands?_

The pained grunt that escapes from the figure under him snaps him out of his thoughts, and his fisted hands unfold and shake as they drip with blood. Hands are on his biceps dragging him out of the room, and he doesn’t quite process any of it. His vision blurs the world and his ears muffle the voices around him, and he smiled. 

* * *

The grotesque ruins of Gulmira make him shudder under his red-gold suit. Gray ashes dance around the land of destroyed houses and men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. There are children who peek their heads through the brick walls with their dark doe eyes in fear and fury. A young girl stands right in front of him with hair matted in gray ashes and her cheeks smeared with dirt and blood, but her fists are curled around a sharp stone. There’s no fear in her eyes, just red alarms. He asks JARVIS to translate the words to her that he’s not gonna hurt them. She doesn’t move. 

He turns to the terrorists he has captured from the borders of the town. He had destroyed all their weapons and bases—killed them all and marveled at the silence that followed now that the war had forcibly come to an end. 

But now he sees just how scared the people of the town are. They don’t trust him, and he doesn’t blame them. They looked at the dead terrorists by his feet and cowered away. He figures that nothing he says will prove to them just how sorry he is for all it is they’ve gone through, so he acts out his apologies. 

He pushes ruble and debris away and tries to rebuild what he can. The locals of the town watch him from behind brick walls for an hour, before they start moving from their hideout to look around what the red-gold flying suit has fixed. The young girl he has spoken to still holds red alarms in her eyes, but the stone she was holding on to is no longer in her hand. 

At some point, he orders SHIELD to send out quinjets full of plants and construction workers of a budget no less than millions upon millions of dollars to bring life back to the town. “And no fucking PR or any coverage from the media about this or I will fucking burn SHIELD down. Understood?” 

Hours of work pass by before he is approached by the young girl of matted hair holding a bowl of food. He doesn’t need to ask JARVIS for the translation of the words that would showcase his gratitude, for he had asked Yinsen of how to say it to him for every night that he has helped keep him alive. He takes the bowl from her and puts his face plate up to smile at her. “Shok-reya,” he tells her. 

“You are vel-come,” she says with a nod. 

He eats the food with much gratitude and suppresses the tears dire to roll down his cheeks. All he can think of is that he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve the warm, simple food or the breeze hitting his face that feels like gentle kisses atop his skin. 

When he finishes his food, he gets back to work. A few minutes later, quinjets land and open to reveal the Avengers. The people of the town cower away. 

“I told you not to come after me,” Tony says bitterly. 

“We wanna plant these trees,” Natasha says and points to the tall trees put in large glass containers behind her. “You don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I do.” 

“It’s not your fault, Tony,” Steve says sternly, and it’s a sentence that constricts Tony’s lungs. 

“It kinda is. Just... sit here. Don’t do anything.” 

“Tony,” Thor starts. “We possess a responsibility, and we will put it to use.” the god throws a tree over his shoulders casually. “Now, where shall we plant these?” 

They spend hours involved in various tasks. Natasha and Clint move away rubble and debris and clean around the streets of the town, as well as plant flowers and trees around. Thor and Steve help the construction workers build new homes and schools in a matter of a few hours. The Hulk and Iron Man plant various energy sources across the town. Soon enough, the town lights up with life. Thor somehow summons bolts of thunder and lightning and it starts raining. The people of the town have lost far too much that can’t be simply built back for them to relish in the reconstruction of their town, and Tony raises his face plate to deliver a sincere translated apology. 

As he walks to the quinjet, the young girl shouts for him. “Wait! Name?” 

“My name is Tony Stark,” he says bitterly. 

She nods once with a grimace, and he figures she knows who he is all too well now. “Thank you for doing better.” 

He looks at her with glossy eyes and a sincere smile. He nods once, and she smiles. No red alarms in her dark eyes, only in his. 

* * *

He shuts himself off in his lab. No one, not even Rhodey, could make it through. He sits for long hours staring into space. The bots keep him company, and JARVIS chimes in every now and then to let him know of what the media says about him. 

_“American media is cancer,”_ he remembers the words of Aunt Peggy and the pat on his shoulders that gave him strength upon the media’s harsh words of him as a teenager, and wishes he could take her away from that house she’s in to keep her with him forever, but he knows she wouldn’t want that, and he doesn’t know if she would be the source of his strength and patience once she starts confusing him for Howard. 

He wonders if he’ll ever find someone who becomes his source of never-ending strength, and decides that A) he doesn’t deserve to have that, and B) even if he did somehow have that someone, it wouldn’t be fair on them. He has caused Jarvis and Peggy much stress, and he does so now to Rhodey and Pepper. Which is why he often locks himself away in his lab; he just doesn’t wanna be a burden. Not to mention the mental breakdowns he would spiral into that no one but the Avengers have been witnesses of so far. It makes him wince to recall just how vulnerable and out of control he was, but the vultures of his mind like feeding on pain and self-destruction. _And oh boy were they hungry,_ he thinks to himself. 

“Sir?” JARVIS speaks. “Captain Rogers has been standing outside of your door for the past three hours now. Shall I let him in anytime soon?” 

“Three hours?” He whispers innocently. “Is that how fast time passes by when you lament over your dreary days?” He says dramatically. “Let him in.” 

When Steve walks in, he looks just as lost as a deer in the woods. It conflicts his mind to see Captain America so full of emotion and so human. Nothing like the poster hung above his bed. Nothing like the description Howard had given him. Yet, he can’t help but fear the Captain sometimes. And right now, he’s petrified. 

“Tony? You mind if I stay here with you?” the Captain says and Tony stands up from his crouched position because he can’t afford to feel too small in the moment. The hairs of his body stand with him, too. He stares at the blonde for a few seconds. _I can’t say no, can I?_

“Yeah, do whatever you want.” 

“But what do you want? If you don’t want me here, I can leave. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

He doesn’t know if this is a trick question or not. Obadiah’s words are still too fresh in his mind, especially after the events of the day. 

_I’m not doing anything you don’t ask me directly to do._

He can’t help but take a short, shaky breath. “Do whatever you want,” he whispers it this time around, and Steve’s heart clenches in fear of the connotation behind this simple phrase. 

“I’ll... be here. Okay?” Steve says as he sits on a bench. There’s visible distance between them that the Captain intentionally puts, and Tony’s confused, sick brain can’t help but think that the blonde must be disgusted with him. A sane part of his mind understands the Captain’s intentions of respecting his boundaries, but then the irrational part of his brain, which Tony favors most of the time, is screaming at him that he’s being treated like a weak victim. 

Tony’s silence alarms the blonde. “You wanna talk about something?” 

“You’re not my therapist, Captain.” 

Steve suppresses a grimace at the use of his title. “I never said I was, but you look like you’ve got something to say. Do you?” 

There are too many emotions coursing through Tony's veins. All of which overwhelming his senses and dominating his chain of thoughts. It’s dangerous because he knows this is when he gets the most self-destructive, but he can’t help it. He especially can’t help when the most overwhelming emotion of all is anger. 

“You don’t gotta babysit me,” he spat. 

Steve notes the icy, biting tone of the genius, and decides to backtrack. “That’s not what I’m doing, but I can always leave if you want me to.” 

And this just seems to anger him more because he’s so confused and torn apart. He doesn’t know if this is a trick or if he is actually given a choice. Does he tell the Captain to leave? His mind will only start revolving around the thought that everyone will leave because they are disgusted by him. Does he tell the Captain to stay? He’ll just feel trapped and watched. There is no middle ground. But then again, anger knows no middle ground. 

When he growls in frustration, the Captain doesn’t comment, but his shoulders visibly tense. Tony doesn’t understand why or how such little things are getting to him so much. All he understands is that he can’t stop it. 

“You alright?” 

“No. No I'm not fucking alright and stop fucking asking that.” 

“Alright,” Steve whispers. “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Tony’s irritated tone laces with his words. “Don’t fucking say that.” 

“Okay,” Steve whispers. 

Steve is confused by Tony’s state, but he’s patient. He watches as the brunet paces the room and taps against the glass of his glowing blue arc reactor. A few frustrated groans escape the pacing man every now and then, and Steve nods in understanding of the internal battle Tony must be facing right before his eyes. 

“What are you looking at?” Tony growled upon eye contact. 

“Uh... s’just...” 

“You’re looking at me like I'm fucking crazy. Is it that? You think I’m losing my mind?” Tony’s voice is escalating in volume, and it catches Steve off guard. 

“No. Absolutely not I’m just—” 

“You’re just what? You’ve been sitting here watching me and don’t think I don’t know what’s going through your head! You think I'm some weak creature who won’t be able to face battles alone—” 

“Tony, I never said—” But Steve's voice is drowned out just as it was when he hit the cold ocean.

“You think I’ll always take the easy way out. Always cutting the wire instead of putting myself on it. You fucking think that!” 

Steve winces as he recalls the altercations from a day not as far behind them as the soldier might have thought. “Tony, I wasn’t aware of what I was truly saying back then and—” 

“But you were thinking it and you’re thinking of it right fucking now!” Tony’s full on yelling at this point, and it’s too late for him to contain himself now. The lava’s just eating through whatever it’s running against. 

“Tony,” Steve’s tone is stern. Commanding. Authoritative. Tony freezes. “I don’t think any less of you because of what I know about you now. I promise you. What I know about you has only merely helped me understand you and your actions better. Do you understand?” 

The obedience of his four-year-old self wants to nod frantically and whisper a respectful _“Yes, sir,”_ as he bows his head and wait for the next line of command, but the rebellion of a broken teenager and the anger coursing through his veins mix comfortably, and he whispers a venomous “Fuck you” to Captain America. 

Steve is taken aback for a solid second, but it passes by quickly and is replaced by a nod and a tight grimace. Tony’s blood is not boiling, it’s simmering on a dangerously low heat. 

“Fuck you. You don’t fucking care. You’re just doing this to rid yourself of guilt and to make yourself feel better. So fuck you.” He can’t stop. He knows he’ll regret this, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Fuck you for being his friend. Fuck you for being so perfect and noble and righteous. Fuck you for being everything I couldn’t be. Fuck you for knowing everything I never wanted you to know. Fuck you for not being found—” 

Steve winces. “Tony, I'm—” 

“No! Shut up!” he doesn’t know when or how did he manage to get as close to the Captain as he is now, but he relishes in the fact that they’re the same height with the Captain sat in front of him like this. His baby blue eyes look miserable, and Tony’s simmering blood starts to bubble. 

“You think I'm fucking weak, don’t you? You think I'm unstable! You think if I don’t have someone babysitting me every hour of every day that I'll just kill my fucking self because poor me can’t deal with my fucking daddy issues, huh?” 

“Tony, I promise you—” 

“You don’t even wanna get fucking near me! Is it because you finally see how disgusting I am? Is that fucking it, Captain? Fucking tell me!” he shouts and lands his fists over the blonde’s chest. Steve’s mind registers that Tony is punching him, but it doesn’t really physically hurt much, and he continues to watch the man in front of him get angrier and angrier by the minute. It’s colder than the sea and more haunting than the horrifying sea creatures he has lived among before he fell into a deep slumber. Steve shudders under the punches, but tries to contain the brunet. 

“Tony, can you just—” 

“Fight back! Why are you just letting me do this? You think I'm made of fucking glass? Fucking fight me back!” 

“Tony, I don’t wanna—” 

“FIGHT BACK! I’M NOT FUCKING WEAK! I’M A FUCKING MURDERER! MERCHANT OF FUCKING DEATH! WHY AREN’T YOU FIGHTING ME?” 

Steve shuts his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, but the punches, although harmless to a super soldier like him, are distracting, nevertheless. However, the angry tears that fall from the engineer’s eyes and the shallow breaths worry the blonde, and he tries once more to contain him. 

“Tony, please—” 

His words are interrupted by a scream, and Steve’s eyes shut tightly at the painful sound. “WHY. AREN’T. YOU. FIGHTING. ME. BACK?!” each word is followed by a punch to the Captain’s chest. Steve feels cold, cold, _cold._

“Tony, you’re—” 

“I’M WHAT? WEAK? NOT GOOD ENOUGH? FIGHT ME BACK AND I’LL PROVE TO YOU THAT—” 

“Tony, you’re scaring me!” Steve blurts out, albeit frantically. 

Tony flinches violently at that and takes a step back. His fisted hands unfold and shake as they drip not with blood, but with shame and dissipating anger—anger that he had for himself all along, and has poured into the Captain’s chest; the haven that once served as a source of warmth for his safe and sound sleep. The low heat has gone out, and now Tony’s blood and stomach are sickly warm. 

He glances up at the Captain—at _Steve_ —and sees baby blue eyes wear a gloss that tugs at his heart and diminishes his lung capacity by a percentage much higher than it actually is. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” he whispers. “I'm s-sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just please—” 

A broken sob escapes the brunet’s lips. His shaky hands reach for the soldier’s chest and gently lay flat atop him. “I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry. I d-didn't mean an-anything I s-said. P-Please don’t b-be mad. P-Please d-don't...” he chokes on a sob. “P-Please d-don't leave.” 

Steve’s heart breaks right then and there because he knows this was nothing but a product of years and years of absolute misery and silence. He knows those rough, calloused hands have felt more pain than what they tried to exert fisted against his chest. He knows those eyes have seen more pain and poured more tears than all the times they had thrown a mean glare. He knows those lips have been made to speak and to shut under humiliating subjugation more times than they have ever come to voice out the snark and sarcasm Steve has learned to love. 

So Steve holds those shaking hands in his and lands a gentle kiss on the palm of the brunet's right hand where a long, white scar is. “I won’t leave,” he whispers the promise as he stares into eyes the color of sweet chocolate clad in heavy tears. “You’ll always find me. Always.” 

* * *

“Hey, Natasha?” 

He stands by the doorframe of her room and watches as she brushes through her red hair. She looks at his reflection from the mirror, and smiles when the glowing blue’s light jumps off the reflective glass to twinkle on the wall of her room. A moment of silence diffuses into the air, and she lets it. 

He sighs and lets his bloodshot red eyes drop to the floor. His arms fold as he leans more of his weight into the doorframe. He sees her emerald eyes blink through the mirror, and it makes it easier for him to say the next words. 

“I think I need therapy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment of your thoughts, opinions, or even hate lol


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***PLEASE READ: okay so we've only got one more chapter left before i end this book. BUT i've been thinking of giving this an extra chapter of an alternative ending. what do you guys think? should i go for it or should i just leave it as it is? 
> 
> mind you that the alt ending won't be a happy one. im debating this because idk if ppl even like this story lol so please comment your thoughts!!!

It took three weeks, fourteen therapists walking in and out of the tower, and sleepless nights in which Tony’s mental breakdowns lured his mind into a dark abyss. Some days, he would be able to sedate those thoughts and keep them at bay. Other days, he would feel hopeless. He was at constant war with himself and never truly knew whether his emotions deserve validation or not. All he knew is he couldn’t risk scaring anyone ever again, which meant he had to be all smiles and typical casual snark around everybody. And of course, they saw right past him, they just refused to pressure him into talking about it especially when he has already made the progress of admitting to his need for therapy. 

“Don’t scare him off now,” Natasha had told them and Rhodey had followed up with “Yeah. If Tony wants to talk, he’ll talk.” 

Steve continued his ensuing routine of hanging around the genius in his lab. Often, Bruce would join in and they would talk about what the soldier calls science-stuff. On days where he would engage in failed therapy sessions, he would be much louder and much more talkative about matters that force a laugh out of the super soldier, and Steve would play along but always leave the note of “I’m here for whenever you wanna talk about it.” 

“I know,” Tony would answer softly and retreat to his never-ending charming conversations. 

However, the fifteenth therapist that had walked in stayed for the promised duration of two whole hours and has walked out of Tony’s office with a smile. The Avengers and Rhodey let out a breath of relief. 

“It’s only the first session, so not much was accomplished, but he was pretty responsive. I deem that a win,” the British woman said. She tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear and Steve would’ve face palmed right then and there if it weren’t for her presence. 

_Of course he would be responsive to you,_ he thought. _You look a lot like Peggy._

“Try to keep him company. I’ve already set up another therapy session with him later on this week.” Rhodey’s eyes widened with pride. When the doctor left and Tony came out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, they insisted he stays for dinner with them. He agreed under the condition that Rhodey would cook, and the Colonel had instantly started getting all the relevant ingredients he would need to prepare the genius’ favorite food. 

When a TV channel in the background blared its opinions of Tony, Clint muttered “Man, y’all should go straight to hell,” and flipped the channel over to a basketball game he’s passionate about. Tony simply shrugged. Despite anything ever, the media still found a way to place him under a bad light, and he’s gotten pretty used to it to properly care. Besides, he doesn’t quite blame them. If anything, he can’t comprehend the fact that the general public seems to take a liking to him, but then again, they seem to only like the funny sarcasm and the arrogant persona he has molded himself into, not to mention the Fuck-the-Government anarchist movement he seemed to lead these days that nowadays teens seemed to be great fans of. So he figured that for as long as they don’t like who he actually is, everything’s peachy. 

He only ever cared about the media when they broadcasted news on Gulmira, which was evidently getting less to no coverage ever since his last visit to the town. Although it doesn’t help him sleep any better at night, he still felt ease lighten his heart to check in on the town and see the people live better. It does, however, tug at the shrapnels around his flesh to know that they would’ve been living much better if it weren’t for his weapons and his contribution to the US Army propaganda. 

“We still got a few seasons to watch of Hell’s Kitchen,” Clint tells him upon taking a seat on the kitchen table. 

“Oh nononono, last time you guys distracted me with your yelling, and I couldn’t get a single recipe out of the episodes,” Bruce said. 

“Bruce, I will literally buy you Gordon’s kitchen if you want. Besides, don’t act like you don’t take note of the creative insults we come up with,” Tony said. 

“What’s Hell’s Kitchen?” Steve asked. 

“Stay up with us and find out,” Tony said with a smile, and Steve nodded right away. 

The night was quite calm and content. They ate the food Rhodey had made with the help of Bruce and talked about random things. When Tony asked about Thor, they told him he has gone off to Asgard yet again. He doesn’t like when the god leaves the tower, but he knows the blonde prince must have other important matters to attend to and feels a sense of honor upon recalling that the tower is a place the god could always safely reside in upon his arrival. 

“Don’t think I forgot,” Natasha nudges his shoulder from her seat as she glares at him. “I still demand to be called the Virtual Basketball Lord.” 

“I’ll tell you what, Hannah Montana, we go a round against each other right after dinner. If you win, you’re granted your wish. I win, you don’t get shit.” 

“What’s Hannah Montana?” Steve asked innocently, and Clint explained it. 

Tony and Natasha went on arguing lightheartedly over the rules of their upcoming game until Tony childishly flicked a bean her way. She glared at him and picked the bean out of her hair to flick it back. 

“Simmer down, Children. Or no chocolate cake after dinner,” Bruce said. 

The engineer and the spy pointed at each other to speak of who started it first in unison, and everybody on the table laughed at just how childish they are being. Steve, however, was all infatuation and heart eyes for the childish brunet. He smiled a little wider when Tony batted his eyelashes innocently before flicking yet another bean at the red head, who opened her mouth to chew at it and stuck her tongue out when Tony whined. “Sore loser!” She exclaimed. 

“I’m not!” 

“You are!” 

“I’m—CAKE!” Tony hopped out of his stool upon seeing Rhodey pull out a chocolate cake from the fridge. He waited patiently for his best friend to place his slice on a plate but got interrupted by JARVIS notifying him of Pepper’s call. “Sure, put her through, Jay.” 

“Anthony Edward Stark thank fuck you have finally decided to pick up the phone!” She exclaimed angrily. He rolled his eyes and pointed to the ceiling. “See what I gotta deal with?” 

“Am I on speaker?!” 

“Yup! Say hi!” 

“Hey, Pep!” Rhodey exclaimed cheerily. 

“Hey, Pepper,” Natasha greeted her as well. 

“Hey, everybody... Tony, I'm gonna—” 

“Be the best CEO ever and cancel whatever gala you’re probably gonna request for me to attend? I know. Thanks, Pepper. You’re the best!” He said with a smirk. Steve couldn’t help the amused smile on his lips. 

“Lucky for you there’s no upcoming gala but the one on Thursday. And you’re already going to that anyway. I’m calling you because the R&D team is yet to receive anything new from you and we are in desperate need to launch something new.” 

“I already sent them a bunch of designs and—” 

“Christmas is coming up, Tony,” she said softly, and Tony’s breath stuttered ever so slightly. The super soldier’s ears picked up on it just fine. 

“Yeah, um. I know. Okay. I'll come up with something new. Oh and Pepper, make sure the gala on Thursday doesn’t get any form of media coverage. And make sure you invite that other billionaire I always forget the name of. He always leaves a lotta money behind,” Tony said as he gave a warm smile to Rhodey when he left him his plate of cake on the counter.

When the call was over, Tony excused himself to the lab and promised Clint to not take long. “I’ll be here in time for the show. Don’t you dare start it without me.” 

“Bet. Watching that show alone with Bruce is no fun.” 

The scientist glared at the archer and promised Tony that they’ll wait for him, and the genius left off to his lab with a smile. 

Natasha smirked at Steve who sighed and frowned upon the absence of the genius. Rhodey exchanged a knowing look with Natasha, and rolled his eyes when Steve started pushing crumbs of cake around his plate. Rhodey spared the blonde the despair and landed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Go to him.” 

“What if he—” 

“Go, Steve,” Natasha told him. “You guys couldn’t stop gazing into each other’s eyes the whole time.” 

Steve blushed and nodded shyly as he got up. “Nah-uh, don’t disrespect my cake like that. Take the plate with you!” 

* * *

He doesn’t have to ask for entry anymore, for the AI automatically opens the door of the lab upon his approach, but he still does so anyway and always mutters a shy “Thank you, JARVIS.” 

He feels a sense of privilege and honor to be granted such easy access to the genius’ lab and holds that honor deeply to his heart. He enjoys spending time with Tony and learning new things about him every day. When Tony is nervous, he taps against his arc reactor and his eyes widen ever so slightly in thought. When Tony is sad, his smiles don’t reach his eyes, but he still throws them around anyway, and his breaths are drawn out for longer. When Tony is scared, his hands shake slightly and his lips tremble. When Tony is happy or content, his behavior becomes naturally childish and carefree, and he grows excited over the littlest of things. When Tony drinks a cup of coffee, his pinky stays held out, courtesy of Jarvis and Peggy’s British influence on him, Steve supposed. When Tony works and tinkers about, he mumbles things under his breath and speaks of his math out loud. 

And when Steve walks into the lab, Tony lifts his eyes off whatever he’s working on to look into the soldier’s baby blue eyes and throws a smile that Steve has come to learn is only reserved to him. 

“Miss me already?” The brunet teased. 

“Actually, yes.” Steve revels in the blush that phrase leaves on the engineer’s face. “Watcha’ working on?” 

“A clean energy source for the Christmas tree they’re gonna light up in Time’s Square. Only god knows just how much electricity is wasted on that stupid tree,” Tony says begrudgingly and glares at the screen in front of. It doesn’t take a genius to know why Tony’s so bothered by it all. After all, Natalie Rushman has reported that Tony locked himself out in the lab last Christmas and didn’t come out until late January. He figures that will most likely be the case this year as well but hopes it wouldn’t be. 

“You’re not eating your cake,” Steve pointed out. 

“I will in exactly two minutes and thirty-two seconds,” Tony said as he started moving holograms around and waited for the pending tab to deem his work a success. When it did, he smiled and asked JARVIS to shut his computer down as he turned his chair to properly face Steve. 

They ate the chocolate goodness and exchanged casual talk, but the elephant in the room insisted on declaring its presence, and Tony actually wanted to address it. 

“She asked why I finally agreed to therapy. Why now,” he mumbled as he started pushing around crumbs of cake with his fork. He refused to meet the soldier’s eyes. “I told her that I actually wanna be better and do better. I wanna... wanna be good. For you. And to you,” he whispered those last few words too lowly for his ears to hear, but Steve’s been too attentive not to hear them. “I wanna reciprocate what you have for me because I have it too, I just... I always have those memories... and those other feelings. Scared, paranoid, angry... you don’t deserve to be around someone who feels those things around you.” 

Steve’s eyes were on Tony’s face the whole time as he spoke, and he couldn’t comprehend how someone as hurt as Tony could simply think of someone else’s feelings as a motive to heal not for the sake of healing, but for the sake of being better to that someone. 

“Tony,” Steve started sternly, yet softly. “Do you think you owe me the reciprocation of my feelings to you?” 

He’s grown too familiar to the genius to know so much about him. How he’s like when he’s nervous, sad, scared, happy, and how he drinks his coffee. 

He also knows how Tony looks like when he’s about to tell a lie. 

“Tony, I’m glad and honored that you think of me as a motive to get better, but please know that you don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me a perfected version of you or having feelings for me or an acceptance of my feelings for you, even. Tony, you can reject me. You can think of yourself. You can say no. You can—” 

“I know I can do all of that,” Tony said quickly. His head bowed down and his figure hunched in on himself. “I know. It’s just hard. And I don’t know. I don’t know anything at all. I just... I was just...” 

“Waiting for someone to decide for you...” Steve spilled out what Tony’s tongue fought to say, and Tony bowed his head further and nodded. 

Rape survivors, Steve has learned, often feel as though much of their liberty to make choices and decisions has been robbed off them. He used to not understand why Rhodey would always insist that his best friend chooses the pancake toppings he wants instead of throwing whatever toppings available upon being told “Whatever you decide,” or his insistence on giving the genius hugs somedays without asking while on other days he would ask if his best friend was okay with a touch as simple and as innocent as a hand on the shoulder. Now, Steve appreciates those things about Rhodey, and has taken him as a source of inspiration to learn more and do better. He knows that somedays Tony was too sensitive and hyperaware of a human’s touch to him. Other days, he would long and yearn for human contact, but never ask of it as to not “taint” whoever he comes to touch. He knows that somedays Tony felt incredibly small and vulnerable, thus threatened. Other days, Tony’s feet walked the ground steadily and his chin held high, and Steve didn’t know whether the brunet was coping or whether it was his way of screaming _help_. It was always different and yet the same, but Steve didn’t mind. All he had ever hoped for was to see Tony heal not for anybody’s sake but his own. 

“If... say I didn’t care, which I do. I really do, Tony. But... say if I didn’t. Would you have still considered therapy?” 

“No,” Tony whispered. 

“Tony,” Steve whispered softly, already dreading the answer of the question he was yet to ask. “Why me? Why for me?” 

But the answer never came. Instead, Tony had lifted his head to stare into the baby blue eyes, and then got up to stand right in front of the soldier. He never broke eye contact as he cupped Steve’s soft porcelain cheek and ran his thumb over the delicate skin. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t dare move. Tony’s fingertips were soft and gentle against his skin. Both his hands came to gently cup his neck, run against the skin there until goosebumps emerged on the surface of the soldier’s skin, and continue to run down further and further until Steve’s blood ran cold as Tony got on his knees. 

“Tony? What are you—” 

“Tell me you’re proud of me,” Tony whispered. 

“Tony, please get u—” 

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” Tony’s hands rested steadily on Steve’s thighs, his big brown eyes holding a strange sense of fondness and determination, and his breaths composed as calculatedly calm as ever. Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared and anticipating a break of his trust and bones, but it was dire that he does this, at least in his mind it was. “Tell me, Steve Rogers. Tell me you’re proud of me.” 

And Steve understood all too well where this was coming from, but he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the world and his misery and the dazed face of a touch and attention-starved ten-year-old Tony Stark being told _“Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you”_ under abuse land on his shoulder with a loud thud. 

“I’m not him. I’m not the Steve Rogers he has told you about. I’m not, Tony. I’ll never be,” he whispered as his eyes wore a heavy sheen on them. Tony got up again and continued to look fondly at those baby blue eyes. His right hand went to cup the soldier’s soft cheek again, and when a single tear rolled over the soft skin, Tony’s thumb rubbed it away. 

“Do you now know why?” Tony whispered. 

Steve nodded once as a broken sob escaped his lips. 

“Shh, it’s okay. It's okay, Steve,” Tony cooed as he ran his fingers through the blonde locks. “I think this is gonna be easy.” 

“W-What is?” Steve asked as he looked up to Tony’s eyes. 

“You’ll know. Soon, I hope,” Tony said with a promising smile.

* * *

“Rhodes, should we celebrate Christmas this year?” Clint asked. 

“Only if you care about Jesus’ b-day, I guess.” 

Clint deadpanned. “You know what I mean, Rhodes. Natasha said that he locked himself out last year, and Ms. Potts says he does that every Christmas. So should we?” 

“Dude, yeah! If you want, anyway. He will keep himself locked in that lab of his, anyway. He really doesn’t like Christmas.” 

“That’s the point. We wanna celebrate it with him.” 

Rhodey set his cup of coffee down to properly address the archer. “Listen man. Tony is not dumb. He gets me and Pepper Christmas gifts every year and I’m pretty sure he got Natasha a gift, too.” 

“Yup. He got Natalie Rushman a pretty necklace,” Natasha said as she walked into the communal kitchen where the pair of men were. 

“My point is, if you wanna celebrate, go ahead. Tony won’t stop you and he wouldn’t want you not to do whatever you want. He just won’t be a part of it. And you could ask Tony himself,” Rhodey shurgged. 

“Ask me about what?” Tony said as he walked in to start the coffee machine. 

“Would you wanna celebrate Christmas with us this year?” Clint said with a hopeful tone. Tony gulped and put on a paparazzi smile. “Nah, but if you wanna throw a party or something, just let JARVIS know and I’ll handle all expenses.” 

“No, we don’t wanna throw no party. We just wanna celebrate with you, but it’s okay. Maybe next year,” Clint said with a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe next year,” Tony returned the smile and walked out. 

The Avengers didn’t want to celebrate Christmas when it came and didn’t set up a tree the night before despite JARVIS letting them know that it was perfectly okay to do so. However, when they woke up and made their way to the communal floor, they found it decorated in gold-red-green lights, a newly installed fireplace that held socks of stockings to each member, even for Thor who wasn’t around yet, mugs of hot chocolate placed on the coffee table, and a huge Christmas tree standing in the middle of the spacious floor. Under it were stationed bots who woke up upon the entrance of the team ready to hand them their gifts. 

“There’s a grand present for each one of you awaiting you in designated floors in the tower,” JARVIS explained delightfully. “Kindly take the elevator so I can show you. Also, Sir wishes you a merry Christmas.” 

They took the elevator and JARVIS moved up to floor #32, which was Natasha’s. As soon as they have stepped foot into the spacious floor, purple-blue-pink lights decorated the place, and they realized the floor was designed as an arcade. 

“Welcome, Virtual Basketball Lord,” JARVIS said and went on to explain what was there to the place. Natasha smiled with glee as she walked around to see all the games and designs of the place. She chuckled upon seeing a hyper-realistic hologram of a card tower. There were even digitalized versions of Russian games she had once joked about to the team, and a surge of warmth and endearment rose to her chest to know that Tony was listening. “This is... oh my god, this is the best thing ever!” Natasha said as she touched the hologram of the card tower and watched it topple over. “Guys! Do you see this?! This is the best Christmas gift ever! Thank you, Tony!” She shouted to the ceiling, to which JARVIS chimed back “Sir says you are most welcome.” 

Next was floor #33, which was Clint’s. The archer’s jaw had hung open upon walking into and hearing barks. “He didn’t...” 

The floor was designed to look like a field, and he didn’t dare step into the grass when JARVIS told him that it was real. The place smelled of flowers and the windows displayed nothing but a blue, cloudy sky. The dogs who were barking and running around were now running to him and tackled him to the floor. The archer giggled and petted the Golden Retrievers until they wiggled their tails happily and licked at his cheeks. “How did he know? This place looks like heaven!” 

“Sir has designed this place according to your love for dogs and nature. You may change the atmosphere and the landscapes the windows may display for you. The vents have also been made bigger and redesigned,” JARVIS said as he opened the vents up to display its interior design. “Sir describes it as ‘chilling on the clouds.’” 

Sure enough, Clint climbed up to the vents and moaned in bliss as he lied down. “Yup. This is heaven. All I'm missing is a harp playing in the background and—” the harp started playing softly through the vents, and Clint smiled widely. “Tony, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you’re a fucking angel.” 

They took the elevator up to floor #34, which was Bruce’s. The floor was much bigger than the other floors, with its ceiling much higher. It was a lab, each item safe enough for the Hulk to be around of. There was also equipment big enough for the Hulk to use. The lab looked much better than Tony’s own. However, with a press of a four-code digit to a screen on the wall, the counters turned into those of a luxurious, grand, and modern kitchen stacked with all the spices Bruce didn’t even know existed. Much like the lab, the equipment was safe for the Hulk and there were bigger versions of it for the green being to experiment with. 

“This is amazing. This... god, he’s got the Other Guy all excited in my head now,” Bruce chuckled as he went to hold the various shiny tools. The Hulk’s voice laced with his as he excitedly walked from one corner of the room to the other to see all the big tools designated for him. “Thank you, Tin Man! Hulk love you!” 

Thor had a floor of his own above Bruce’s, to which they skipped over until the god would be here to see it for himself. They went straight to a floor much higher up in the tower than the others—floor #87. 

“One floor away from his,” Natasha whispered and winked at Steve. 

“It’s also the floor with the best view of Manhattan,” JARVIS chimed in as they came to a stop. The floor was breathtaking. It was an art studio filled with various art supplies and digital posters that changed to whatever image he asked them to be to use as a point of reference. There were traditional canvases as well as digital ones that Tony has designed appropriate brushes for. The floor was designed to look antique and modern simultaneously. There was a vinyl player on a table by a fireplace much bigger than the one Tony had installed in the communal area. The place was decorated with flowers in luxurious vases, holograms of fruit bowls, and a hologram of his shield on the wall. The star in the middle seemed to move in and out in sync with his breathing, and Steve smiled at how much thought has went into this place. 

The rest of the team were walking around the floor excitedly touching everything before JARVIS chimed in that they had more gifts by the tree to unwrap, and they bolted to the elevator to get to the communal area again. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispered as he looked up to the ceiling. “Thank you so much.” 

He expected JARVIS to respond, but Tony’s soft voice came through the ceiling. “You’re welcome, Steve.” 

* * *

Therapy exhausts Tony beyond what he thought was possible. It felt like a deep cleanse to his soul, which he realized should feel good, but that was the most exhausting part of it all to him. He did enjoy talking to his therapist and he did actually listen to her eloquent British accent ease his anxiety and rain her wisdom and advice on him. He found it easy to open up to her and respond, and he didn’t know if it was because he was genuinely invested in getting better, or if it was her consistent wear of red lipstick that went well with her short, brown hair and eyes. 

_“Aunt Peggy, I love the red stuff on your lips,” he told her after she had tickled him. “Mom wears pink stuff, but the red looks better.”_

_“That stuff’s called lipstick, my boy,” she told him as she brushed a loose hair strand away from his face._

_“Lipstick,” he repeated. “Can I put lipstick? Red lipstick?”_

_“Absolutely fucking not,” Howard said upon walking into the living room where Peggy had told him she’d wait for him. “That thing’s for girls and you’re a man!”_

_“Howard, first of all, mind your language around the kid. Second of all, he’s only five and these are different times,” She glared as Tony hid behind her. His father scoffed and told her to follow her into his office for their meeting. “I’ll come back, my boy. And we shall see if red or pink lipstick looks better on you,” she winked, and Tony smiled before he was yet again left alone._

Now, the red lipstick worn by the woman before him gave him much comfort, and he appreciated the fact that she wore it almost every session. She never forced an answer out of him, but she had a way with words that helped her gain enough vital information on his mental state. Although in the beginning he was paranoid over her reporting back to SHIELD of his state, she had eased his worries quickly. “I won’t tell them of what you don’t want them to know.” 

He talked and talked, and often engaged in various therapeutic exercises. Some worked in his favor, like the breathing and drawing exercises—which always ended up with him sketching robots alongside Steve and often making paper airplanes to fly towards Natasha with the message _U SUCK :P_ while Rhodey’s would say _I LUV U._ And when Steve goes to the kitchen to get a drink, he’d fly a paper airplane to him with the message _UR CUTE_ , and watch the soldier blush profusely as Natasha smirked. Other exercises, however, didn’t always end with a cute, blushing soldier in his kitchen. Exercises such as recalling his childhood memories, pretending he’s talking to his father or to Obadiah, or associating colors, textures, and weathers to how he felt in Afghanistan always sent him into a spiral of panic and anger at himself. 

“It’s okay. This is still progress. Your anger is understood and valid,” his doctor would say. 

“It’s just... god, why am I not getting better?” He’d frustratingly wipe at his misty eyes. 

“You are, Tony. Be gentle enough to yourself as to give this time. Trust the process.” 

With more time, came more progress, more exercises, more slip-ups, more learning, more coming to terms with who he is and how he is like and why he is who he is and why he is like what he is like. He was still not ready to confront Steve with his feelings for him and the feeling of fear and how the image of that goddamn poster hung above his fucking bed still haunted him, but he was starting to find a sense of comfort in the Captain’s touches and was able to shut down the screams in his head of how much _bigger_ the Captain was, how _stronger_ , how _taller_ , how _he could easily manhandle him, push him down, hold his head in place, forcefully open his legs..._

Tony often lied to himself, that much was true, but he also knew that he was tired of himself. He was tired of those screams in his head and of the images of a weak and vulnerable state of himself living in the forefront of his mind.

 _“Part of healing is to push yourself, to go against those voices that hold you down, to take a stand against your comfort zone and explore other zones, just as long as you are able to tell when enough is enough,”_ his therapist has once said. _“Remember, standing by a fire could surely give you warmth. But if you don’t take a step back at the right time, you will burn.”_

So Tony would let Steve hold his hand, run those big and soft hands through his brown curls, cup his cheeks and trace the features of his face with care, and lay his head on the soldier’s lap while he tells him of humorous stories of how SHIELD handled what he had called the “defrosting” of him, and when Tony’s ill mentality would morph Steve’s face into that of the poster’s and make him smell nothing but strong whiskey and cigarettes, he would make a run to his room or the lab. Steve would never make himself out to appear bothered by any of it, although it did sting a bit. Instead, he would follow Tony’s footsteps into whatever room he has locked himself in and continue to talk or read out of pages of books from behind the door until he'd sleep, and in the morning, Tony would wake him up with a cup of coffee exactly how the soldier likes it, and a smile that told the soldier that those body aches from sleeping on the hard floor by the door were worth it. What the soldier never knew is that his heavy sleep kept him from feeling the brunet’s crouched figure by his side running his fingers through the blonde locks. 

* * *

“Play chess with us,” Clint said as soon as he had walked into the lab, Natasha standing behind him and making pink bubbles with the gum in her mouth. 

“Can’t. Working,” Tony said as he put his face shield up to glance at the pair of spies. “Are you wearing my hoodie?” 

“Your closet has comfy clothes,” Natasha said and made yet another bubble. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re wearing my hoodie.” 

“Play chess with us please. You always work,” Clint said with a pout. 

Tony did relish in being wanted and for his presence to be requested for something beyond meetings and missions, but for the purpose of being a source of enjoyment to someone’s time in such an innocent way. 

“Alright, alright. Jay, put all projects on hold and put the bots back to sleep, okay?” 

“Whatever you want, Sir. And Sir?” 

“Yeah, JARVIS?” 

“Beat their asses in chess,” JARVIS said smugly. Tony laughed as Clint’s jaw hung open and he looked up to the ceiling, “Oh, screw you, JARVIS! And here I thought you were the coolest AI ever.” 

“I am, in fact, the coolest AI ever. Your thoughts don’t change that,” JARVIS replied. 

“Damn right,” Tony said with a smirk. 

They made it to the communal area to find Rhodey showing Steve things on a tablet, and Bruce reading a book in the kitchen. Natasha argued with Clint for a solid minute of refusing to be on his team. “He’s a damn genius! You think he needs any of our help? Sit your ass down next to me and be on my team!” Clint had said to which Natasha rolled her eyes and begrudgingly sat next to him. “I already know we’re gonna lose.” 

“Cheer up, buttercup. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Tony teased as he set up the chess board. 

“Oh no, you won’t get lucky,” Rhodey said from across the room. “Trust me, I gave up on winning against that bastard a long time ago.” 

Clint made the first move, and Tony was already grinning mischievously. “No shit. He’s looking at Clint like he’s the world’s biggest idiot.” 

“That’s because he is,” Tony said and made his move. Clint scoffed and made yet another move. “I’ll have you know I am one of SHIELD’s most favored assassins and an excellent spy.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said as he moved a piece of his. “Add a total chess loser to your resume because you just lost in two moves. Checkmate.” 

Steve got up to see the board as Clint’s jaw dropped to the floor and Natasha facepalmed. “How did that even happen?” Steve asked as he took a seat by the table to witness the game. Rhodey and Bruce got up to check it out, too. 

“Easy. He totally exposed the king piece,” Tony said. 

“My turn!” Natasha said excitedly as she moved a piece. Everybody tried to help her in hopes that she would win against the genius, but that has failed as Tony smirked and declared “Checkmate.” 

“Dude! Has anyone even ever won against you?” Clint asked in wild disbelief. 

“Yes,” Tony grimaced as he recalled the fear and the hot, white terror that washed over him when he had lost the chess round for the very first time in his life. 

_“You lost. So that means I get to—”_

_“Nononono, I wasn’t thinking,” Tony said with wide, frantic eyes. “I just... can we go again? Please Obi, my body still hurts. Last time hurt.”_

_“Liar,” Obadiah said as he smiled and took a sip of his whiskey. “You begged to cum last time. And you are always thinking. You’re gonna be a businessman one day, and you should know that your word should be taken for what it is and not changed. So no. No more chess rounds. I won, so I get to fuck you like we had agreed.”_

_“We didn’t agree on that, Obi,” Tony mumbled as he tried to recall what they had exactly agreed on, but how could he when he had been so heavily drunk. “Did we?” he whispered miserably on the verge of tears._

_“We have, Tony,” the older man said as he fiddled with his belt. “Now get on the bed, baby boy. I’ve been waiting for this. It's been a stressful week.”_

“Who the hell was that absolute legend who had won against you?” Clint asked with wide, curious eyes. 

Tony fiddled with the king piece he had in his hand and held tightly on to it. “Obadiah,” he tried to say casually, but the crack to his voice gave him away. 

“I take the word ‘legend’ back,” Clint said with casual disdain, which shocked Tony. He expected them to drench him in pitiful looks, but all he heard were mutters of agreement upon Natasha’s phrase of “Glad the fucker’s dead.” 

Somehow, that put his mind at ease. It felt validating and freeing to know other people think the man was not as good as his sick brain had sometimes painted him out to be just to mess with its beholder. He did hear it from Rhodey over and over again but hearing it from more people was a kind confirmation. And he supposed this was the first opportunity to practice the art of seeking warmth out of the fire without burning, so, he raised his chin up and muttered, “Yeah, fuck Obadiah.” It weirdly felt liberating, and he relished in the proud looks he received from his team. 

“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice chimed in. “Allow me to say: Damn right.” 

The team erupted in laughter at that. Clint calmed down from his laughing fit to say “Yup. You really are the coolest AI ever. Created by the coolest guy ever.” 

* * *

On the nights when Steve wouldn’t be able to sleep, he’d wind up in the communal kitchen. Tony was on his way to check up on the soldier after JARVIS had told him that the Captain appears to be crying. He had meant to walk in there and do whatever it takes to comfort the crying soldier, but he stopped dead in his tracks upon peeking his head and catching a glimpse of a black and white photo in his hands that he knew all too well—a picture of Captain America alongside Howard Stark. 

“You were my friend,” he heard Steve whisper miserably, and as he peeked his head, he saw Steve look at the picture with heavy hatred plastered on his face. “You were my fucking friend...” 

Tony witnessed as Steve profusely wiped at his tears and got up towards a lit scented candle. The room that had smelled like warm vanilla soon smelled of burnt paper, and Steve’s tear stained face grimaced at the sight of the fire eating away at the picture. Tony decided to go back to his room. He found himself coming blank of any way he could help the Captain through this, and if he’s being totally honest, the presence of _him_ was looming around his head. 

And so, he left the blonde off with privacy and lamenting thoughts over the past. 

* * *

“You ever got to visit Aunt Peggy?” Tony asked the next morning around a mouthful of cereal. 

“No,” Steve answered with a grimace. “SHIELD gave me a fake address. Said it was keeping her safe that way.” 

“They didn’t let you in on her actual address?” 

“No. Besides, they told me she has Alzheimer's now and that she wouldn’t remember me.” 

Tony chewed slower and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Would you like to visit her? Today?” 

Steve blinked in surprise. “But what if she doesn’t remember me?” 

_Howard? I’ve missed you so much, my pal._

“She will. I know she will,” Tony smiled promisingly. 

And so, later that afternoon, Tony had taken Steve down to the garage to pick whatever car he would be driving on their way to the retirement home. He suggested that Steve wears something he used to wear back then around her to make it easier for her ill mind to recall him, and Steve had obliged to that and wore a white shirt and army green pants. Tony, however, had an important meeting after, and he couldn’t afford to change out of his suit, which he knew would only prompt her mind to take him as his father. 

“She might forget whatever conversation you’d have and cry over seeing you again even though you were right in front of her for some time. Go with the flow and don’t confuse her,” Tony said as Steve drove. “She might start recalling events differently and might start to think she’s somewhere else. Sometimes she gets scared. If that happens, just hold her hand and keep talking to her about something else. She’ll soon forget why she had been so scared in the first place.” 

Steve’s heart felt a pang of pain for Peggy, and warm love for Tony. Clearly, this is a man who had frequently visited the old woman and has been incredibly patient with her. To hear him talk of her with so much love and care had made him want to hold Tony’s hand and apologize a hundred times for ever thinking that man was selfish. 

“She might, uh, recall me as someone else. Don’t deny it and don’t try to correct her. Don’t be cruel to her,” Tony whispered the last part as if to himself, and Steve understood. 

Once in the retirement home, the receptionist greeted Tony and exchanged casual talk until she gave him a grant to visit in five minutes. “Is that... oh my god. Is that Captain America behind you?” 

Tony turned to see Steve saluting an old man who seemed to recognize him. “Yeah, that’s the legend himself.” The genius couldn’t miss the way Steve had looked around the place as if it were where he was supposed to be, and he walked to him and put a gentle hand on his chest. “You okay, Steve? Was this a bad idea?” 

“No. I just need to see her,” Steve said as he shuddered. “I need to know she’s okay. This place... looks like she doesn’t belong here.” 

“You don’t belong here either,” Tony said, and Steve’s eyes softened. “Technically, I do,” Steve argued. 

“Technically, you’re as young as me. So what if you needed a little beauty sleep? It worked wonders, anyway.” 

“Did you just call it ‘beauty sleep’?” Steve said as he feigned taking offense. 

“Uh-huh. And since we’re being oh so technical, then technically I just called you beautiful,” Tony winked and marveled at the blush that crept along the blonde’s cheeks. 

Before Steve could say anything, they were told that they may enter her room. Tony stopped Steve by the doorframe. “More than one person in the room can be overwhelming to her,” he explained and decided to wait for Tony’s signal before entering. Steve’s heart kept clenching in his chest, and he heard her voice exclaim “My pal! How are you?” 

“I have a guest with me, Peggy. Remember Steve?” Tony said and signaled for Steve to enter. Steve walked over to her slowly as she kept blinking at him in disbelief. He held his breath as he took a seat by her bed and held her wrinkled hand. “Hey, Peggy,” he whispered. 

She looked up at Tony who stood on the other side of the bed, and back at Steve again. 

“Steve? Oh my god, Steve! Steve!” she cried. “I missed you so much! Oh my god! Oh my god, Howard! You did it! You found Steve!” 

Steve glanced over to Tony who grimaced before plastering on a paparazzi smile. “Told you I'd do it, Peg.” 

Steve kept staring up at Tony who awkwardly shifted on his feet. “I’ll leave you two catch up. I’ll, uh, be here soon again,” Tony said as he started to walk out. 

With that being said and done, Steve was able to wrap his head around the scenario Peggy has established in her head. He had wanted to tell her that this wasn’t Howard, that this gem of a man could never be Howard, but she had started talking to him about their days during the war and memories he couldn’t quite recall being true, but he went with the flow and found himself smiling and laughing against himself whenever her mind came up with a funny story. 

“Oh, Steve. You should’ve seen how Howard was like the entire time you weren’t found. His poor son was always on the receiving end of his frustrations,” Peggy said with a frown, and Steve found himself frowning too because he knows this isn’t part of Peggy’s ill mind’s misconception of reality. “Keep an eye out on that boy for me, eh? He’s so smart and has such a big, kind heart. Look! He made me this for my birthday once!” She said as she showed off a watch, and he recalled it from that one tape he had watched. It seemed to still work just fine as Peggy showed off the hologram the watch had displayed. “I’ve been wearing it ever since he gifted it to me. He’s such a sweetheart. You’ll love him, Steve.” 

“I know,” Steve whispered, the _I already do_ left unsaid as he smiled fondly. 

A few minutes later, Tony walked into the room again to let Steve know that they need to get going, and it was right then and there that Peggy’s mind altered its vision on who was standing before her. “Anthony! My precious boy!” 

Steve saw as Tony’s face glowed with a beaming, genuine smile, and he immediately sunk into her open arms and buried his head against her shoulders. Tony was young, but in her arms, he somehow looked much younger, and Steve couldn’t help the infatuated smile that spread on his lips. “It’s me, Aunt Peggy. I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too, sweetheart. God, look at you! And look at Steve! Thank you for bringing him over here. And thank you Steve for coming. I thought I'd never see you,” she smiled. 

“Of course I’d come to see you,” Steve whispered. 

They spent a few more minutes in her room chatting and laughing. In between conversations, Peggy would cry over Steve again and exclaim “Oh my god! I thought you were dead!” to which Steve would hold her hand and ease her sadness. She didn’t refer to Tony as Howard for the rest of the visit, but she did mention him an awful lot, and Tony kept a smile plastered on his face all throughout. 

Soon, they had to leave. Tony kissed his Aunt’s forehead and wrinkled hands with the promise of coming back again, and Steve did the same. 

“See you soon, my favorite boys,” she said cheerfully. “Take care of each other.” 

* * *

Steve couldn’t dislodge the punching bags due to their recent upgrade. They withheld so much more damage and strength no matter how hard Steve had punched at them. It was satisfying and not all at once. It was satisfying in the way that his muscles ached and burned as proof of his stamina and strength, and it was not in the way that Steve couldn’t quite stop. There was no release. 

His visit from the afternoon had him ride a roller coaster of emotions, but none of them were necessarily negative. Sure, he had despised the moments in which Peggy confused Tony for Howard, but he knew it was out of her control. Still, he wanted to scream out that Tony is nothing like Howard. He was sweet and caring, nothing like the heartless machine he had once described him to be. He was kind, beautiful, and absolutely charming. Steve always felt safe around him no matter where they went. He was simply Steve’s haven. Steve hadn’t known he would come to have feelings for someone quite this intense. Here he was, either working his body out until it ached, or walking around the tower as what his team had called “a lost puppy,” which he figured was quite appropriate. He did feel lost and disoriented whenever Tony wasn’t around. 

Now, he punched through the bags until JARVIS had notified him that Tony was back in the tower after the long meeting he had attended. Steve stopped and ran quickly into the bathroom to shower the sweat off, and picked out a fresh pair of gray sweatpants and the red hoodie Tony had once complimented him on. He took quick strides towards the communal area where Tony’s voice was coming from and saw as the team amusedly watch Tony argue with Pepper from the kitchen counter he was stood on. 

“I don’t care about the liberal agenda anymore, Pepper! It’s boring, boring, and I'm not gonna—OO! Hey there, big guy. God, do I love that hoodie on you,” Tony beamed at Steve before he addressed Pepper again. “I need about fifteen million dollars donated to the students of MIT. That’s final.” 

“You already donated millions of dollars to the goddamn boys' and girls' scouts!” 

Steve walked around the angry businesswoman to an unbothered Rhodey. “What is happening exactly? Why is Tony standing on the kitchen counter?” 

“He wanted to hang some Iron Man poster a fan had sent, but got distracted,” he shrugged. 

Steve watched on amusedly before Tony hopped off the counter to sign papers Pepper has practically pinched his ear to sign, and when he did so with a stomp of his feet, she smiled and kissed his cheek with a loud “Mwah!” to which Tony groaned loudly at as she left. He walked over to the blonde in the red hoodie. “Come with me.” 

“Huh?” Steve whispered.

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.” 

Steve looked over at Natasha who gave him a wink, and he heard Tony giggle as he caught on to it. Tony pulled on Steve to follow him by the fabric of his hoodie to the elevator. He didn’t tell Steve where exactly they were headed, but Steve figured out it was Tony’s floor, which was always quiet and... lonely. 

Tony tugged on his hoodie to follow him to his room, and as soon as they were inside, the genius locked the door. Steve wasn’t sure what to make out of any of this, but he figured the wisest thing to do was to allow Tony the liberty of doing whatever he wanted. He stayed stood where Tony had guided him to, and waited until the genius spoke. 

“Okay, so, I was at my therapist’s office before I came here. And she suggested I start working on something I've honestly been too embarrassed to ask of you in front of the team,” he paused to look into Steve’s baby blue eyes. “Alright. Here goes nothing. Uh, can I touch you?” 

Steve was dumbfoundedly taken aback, and he didn’t quite comprehend the question, which tugged on Tony’s nerves as he tapped against the glowing blue. When the seconds stretched on, Tony’s cheeks warmed up and the most breathtaking blush peppered along his cheeks. Steve was stunned, but then realized that the engineer before his eyes was falling apart and racking his mind for an escape of the awkward situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! It’s just... really? That’s all you wanted to ask?” Steve said quickly. 

“Uh, yeah. Is that alright with you?” 

“Yes. Oh my god, yes. Yes, you can touch me.” 

Tony tried to ease his mind and let out a shaky sigh. He stepped in closer to the Captain and reached his hands over to the clothed chest and broad shoulders. He ran his hands all over Steve’s torso all while maintaining eye contact. Occasionally, Tony’s eyes flickered, and his hands faltered, but a fierce look of determination would cross his face, and he’d keep going. Steve noticed how Tony had to crane his neck and tiptoe to touch his shoulders and suggested that he sits, but Tony refused. 

“I... I know I'm small. I don’t wanna be scared of that. I’m trying,” he said as he squeezed around Steve’s biceps. The soldier understood what this was about and didn’t mind at all. 

“Whatever it takes. I'm with you,” Steve whispered. 

Tony nodded and gulped. “You’re much bigger than me. You all are,” he whispered as he ran his hands yet again over the broad shoulders. “Much stronger than me,” he ran his hands over the Captain’s biceps. “Much taller than me,” he tiptoed as his hands ran up again to trace over the face of the man before him. “You could... easily...” Tony whispered as his chocolate eyes welled with tears. 

“But I wouldn’t,” Steve whispered. “This... bigness, this strength, this height, this heart of mine, it all exists to protect you. I promise.” 

Tony looked up at the soldier as though he were a shooting star that held all his wishes and dreams, and a small smile graced his lips. “Touch me,” he whispered. 

Steve gulped. “How do you want me to touch you?” 

“Take my blazer off.” 

Steve did as he was told, trailing his hands over Tony’s shoulders as he went along. Tony’s muscles didn’t tense, and Steve took that as a good sign. 

“My tie, take it off.” 

Steve rested his wrists over the man’s chest as he fiddled with the tie and successfully untied it. He didn’t think Tony would want him to go any further, so he stopped at that, but Tony had taken the soldier’s big hand to sit atop the glowing blue, and whispered a determined “Unbutton my shirt. Take it off.” 

“Tony, are you sure?” 

“Yes. I’m sure. I want this.” 

In his mind, the fire was still out of reach. Sure, there was sharp heat fanning over his face, but he was yet to burn, so he stretched out his arms further. 

He watched as Steve’s steady hands unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt slowly and carefully. Once the shirt was unbuttoned, Tony shook the fabric off him. For a solid minute, all he did was stare at Steve’s eyes. He felt naked not in the way that he had no shirt on, but in the way that displayed all there is to him: weak and weary with efforts of chasing after normalcy. 

“Touch me. However way you like.” 

“Tony, I don’t think that’s a good—” 

“Please, Steve,” his voice dripped with heavy desperation and dire need for his mind to come to terms with the idea that Steve will not hurt him, not when the door is locked or when his hands have touched him gently or when he had technically just put on a stripping show for him and sure his pants are still on but _oh my god what am I doing what am I fucking doing get out get out get out—_

But Steve’s touch never came. Instead, he waited until Tony’s eyes focused on him again instead of traveling wildly from one corner of the room to the other, and suggested that they open the door. “At least if you feel... confined, you can always see that the door is wide open and you can make the choice to get out of here. I will not hurt you, and I will not do whatever you don’t want me to do, but I do want you to feel as safe as possible, even if it comes in ways that I don’t entirely understand.”

Tony gasped. The words had felt like a soothing rain that put the fire out and soothed his heated, blistered skin. All he wanted was to bask in its droplets as they felt like gentle kisses, and this is how he found himself hugging the soldier and holding onto his red cotton clad figure as he sobbed. 

He and Steve both understood that his fear of human touch was rooted in its intimacy. It scared Tony to no end that he may never be as intimate as how he desired to be, especially with the feelings he developed for the soldier. “It’s not fair to you,” Tony cried. “It’ll never be fair to you.” 

“It’s not fair to you either,” Steve whispered as he wrapped his arms around the brunet; his hold loose enough to grant Tony ease to escape, tight enough to hold him together. 

“What if I never... what if...” 

“Tony, you’ve already done so much progress already. I know it’s hard for you to see that, but seriously. Look at you. Tony, a few months ago would you have even let me in your room and locked the door?” 

Tony shook his head. “But what if I never give you what you want?” 

“I want you safe and sane and happy. That’s all I truly want. Whatever else comes with that is just a bonus.” 

Tony sighed and stepped back, suddenly feeling incredibly raw and exhausted. Steve sensed it and asked if whether he should unlock the door or not. 

“Uh, yes. I wanna change, so can you just wait for me outside?” 

Steve nodded and did as he was told. After a few minutes, Tony opened the door and let Steve in again. He wore an oversized blue hoodie and black sweatpants, his hair messy as a couple of strands fell on his face, and Steve couldn’t help but swoon. “You’re so adorable.” 

“Shut up,” Tony rolled his eyes as he blushed. 

“Oh my god, you’re blushing? You’re blushing! Awh, Tony you look so cute!” Steve cooed. 

The brunet rolled his eyes again and threw a pillow at the soldier. “M’not cute! And I don’t blush!” 

“You are cute! You are the cutest out there!” Steve said with faux fury and threw the pillow back at the genius. 

“Oh, it’s on!” Tony said as he grabbed another pillow, and soon enough a pillow fight broke out. Steve had not felt such a light step to his feet before. All he felt and saw was pure bliss as pillows of silk and feather hit his face and sounds of giggles and laughs hit his heart. It was in this moment that nothing mattered to Steve but the man before him who trusted his bigness, his strength, his height, and his heart. He doesn’t know when or how, but he had tripped on his feet and landed with his back against the luxurious bed. 

“I won!” Tony giggled as he landed above the smiling soldier. Steve was hyperaware of the position they were in. Tony has braced himself on his hands and knees above Steve. He was all smiles and giggles before his mind caught up to their position as well, and Steve waited for him to scurry away. 

But Tony stayed in that position just staring into Steve’s eyes, his fond smile not wavering. He cupped the blonde’s cheek with one hand, and Steve couldn’t help but part his lips to breathe a little steadier. Tony’s mind was buzzing in content, and for a moment there, all that he could think of was how kind and blue Steve’s eyes are. His eyes shifted to the rest of the soldier’s face. His lips were parted as he breathed steadily, and Tony couldn’t help but take notice of how plump and pink they look. With one more glance to Steve’s eyes, where he saw nothing but blue and kindness, he tilted his head and moved closer and closer. 

_Steve Rogers would be so fucking proud of you._

His mind pushed every sound that wasn’t that contented buzz out of his skull to diffuse into thin air. He saw how perfectly still the soldier had stayed. How he did not chase after Tony’s actions to instigate his own, and his chest breathed easier at the realization that Steve truly meant every word he had said. Steve would never hurt him. He promised. 

_She promised, and he never got to visit Italy._

But Steve was showing it. Steve could easily do so much with how big he is, how strong he is, how tall he is, with how much power he has gained now that him and Tony were alone in a locked room on a bed. And yet, he didn’t. He waited. 

Tony leaned in all the way and kissed him with gentleness and softness he didn’t know he was capable of. It was the first kiss he has deliberately given anyone while sober, and as he felt a smile against his lips, he broke the kiss to smile too. 

“I won,” Tony said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment your thoughts!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major apologies for the delay in updating/replying to the comments, i had BURNT MY FUCKING HAND and had to take the time off for it to heal :)) not fun. 
> 
> anyway, my baby is finished :') it was truly a joy to write this fic and i'm so so glad and honored that it has been read by anyone at all! THANK YOU! i have greatly appreciated all the kudos, comments, and overall immense support of this fic, and i hope how i ended things isn't a let down to most readers. 
> 
> please leave comments of your thoughts and/or criticism of the chapter!! maybe even leave requests/prompts of what you would like to have me write in future works. 
> 
> enjoy reading :')

This was supposed to feel good any minute now. He was supposed to let go of the restraints of the past and shake its hand as he smiles at its face to say _Pleasure doing business with you._

But he slipped. Again. 

One minute he was watching a documentary on the extinction of animal species, the next he was watching a salamander crawl its way not on the grand screen, but on the walls of the cave. 

He had tried to recall the various exercises his therapist told him of. They worked sometimes. All he had to do was get a grip on reality. But how could he do so when all he could see were _the walls of the cave_ , when all he could hear was _a language he couldn’t understand_ , when all he could smell was _dirt and burnt copper_ , when all he could say were _promises of building the Jericho_ , when all his body felt was _pain and blood trickle all over it_ , when all he could feel was _panic, terror, fear._

When figures loomed over him before crouching to his level of sight, he had nearly lost it. When they crouched like that, it only meant one thing: _he was gonna end up bloody, filthy, and under poor Yinsen’s care._

_He closed his legs as tightly as he could, although he knew that was such a futile attempt at self-defense and that they would be forced open anyway. He held on to the car battery he’s been wired to with all his strength and braced himself for what was to follow._

_He could hear voices. He didn’t even put in the effort to tune in to any of it. It’s not like he would understand the language anyway. He did, however, learn what begging for mercy sounds like in Urdu. “Maf-kerna! Maf-kerna! Please please please I’ll build it I’ll build it just please don’t do this maf-kerna don’t do this,” he sobbed._

_When one of them got up, he flinched and crawled away as he held on to the car battery. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for the brutal attack to take place. It never came. Instead, he could hear water running. And hot dread washed over him right then and there._

_Last time they had shoved his head underwater, he was unconscious for a week. Yinsen had been held at gunpoint just to bring him back. He couldn’t leave Yinsen who lived in a beautiful town and had a family to go back to. He had to stay alive to help him escape._

_His lungs wouldn’t handle it this time. He knew it. He would be dead, and although the idea sounded peaceful, his soul wouldn’t be able to rest. Being dead also meant that he wouldn’t be able to build them their precious Jericho, and that’s when an idea struck him. He put his trembling hand over the arc reactor and threatened to destroy it if they don’t take him back to his cave._

_Loud voices erupted with something he couldn’t quite understand, but the sound of running water stopped, and he laughed at the newfound power he somehow managed to hold over them now. They moved again, and Tony clicked on the clasp of the arc reactor amidst his violent flinch._

_One of the figures lunged towards him, and he screamed. A hand pressed against his chest, and his body trembled in anticipation of a punishment._

_He couldn’t bother thrashing around or fighting the strong hold. He just cried miserably and figured it would be of no use to keep his legs closed. Not when they were gonna force them open, anyway. He just hoped they would get it over with soon and perhaps there would be less men._

_“Please d-don’t make m-me bleed,” he sobbed. “T’weak w-when m’bleedin.’”_

_Although he could hear voices, they came muffled to his ears. He couldn’t register what was going on or why he could hear Italian words and_ —wait. Yinsen didn’t say that they could speak Italian. 

“Sei al sicuro,” he heard the soft, eloquent voice say. “Sei lontano da quel posto. Sei qui, in America. Nella torre. Stai bene.” 

“J-JA’VIS?” he croaked out. “Y’here?” 

“There’s no one else I would be here for.” 

Blinking a few times, he could see that the figures were not of Middle-Eastern men, but of the Avengers. He looked down to his lap in search for the car battery he was sure he was holding, turns out he had ripped a hard pillow open. The man holding on to him was Rhodey, who immediately removed his hand from atop the arc reactor upon seeing Tony’s unseeing, glazed eyes focus again. The mental turmoil wore the brunet down, and he slumped against the wall as he heaved. “Tony?” Rhodey tried. “You here?” 

Tony’s heavy tongue couldn’t quite cooperate, so he nodded. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger and shame wash over him because he genuinely thought he was getting better. Why is he still having those mental breakdowns? Why is he still so weak? 

Worst of all, he thought, was that he got put on display yet again. He couldn’t stand the sight of Steve’s sad baby blue eyes. He felt like burning his skin off. 

“What happened?” Clint whispered. “What triggered this?” 

“Clint, shut up now,” Natasha glared at the archer before fixating on Tony. “Hey, T. Welcome back,” she whispered and then pushed a glass of water his way. “Here. Please drink this.” 

He tried. He could’ve sworn he tried to push every single muscle into reaching out for the glass of clean, cold water, but his system hung. It’s like his body refused to believe he was safe, forever distrusting his senses. It’s one thing to question your mind, but to question his eyes and ears was when he knew he was not as stable as he thought he was. 

It took a few more minutes, but Tony’s body was moving again. He still refused to speak and attempted to get up on his wobbly knees to make a run for his lab. When he stumbled on his own feet, Rhodey immediately held him up, and helped him walk his way to the elevator. 

“At least tell us what’s the matter. What triggered this?” Clint asked again. 

Tony found his voice, and along with that, found anger. “I find it flattering you asked. But oh, wait! There are no tapes of my time in that cave. You guys are such visual learners.” 

Clint’s eyes widened before they softened yet again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t know…” 

“What-fucking-ever,” Tony mumbled before he turned around again. 

And that’s how he ended up in his lab alone holding onto Dum-E's arm as he cried and cried. What seemed to bother him more than anything was how under constant display he was. He hated the vulnerable state the Avengers seemed to always find him in, because there’s so much more to him than his mental turmoil. He just wanted to be normal or at least free of mental breakdowns for a solid week. Was that truly too much to ask for? 

Of course, someone was outside his lab, and he profusely wiped his tears and anger away and patted Dum-E in gratitude before sending him back to his station. He expected Steve to walk in with his sad baby blue eyes and soothing voice and welcome arms, but it was Natasha. She wore one of his band hoodies and black sweatpants. It has been her thing for months now, wearing his clothes. He never knew why she did it, but he didn’t mind. 

She walked over to him and greeted the bots. She sat right next to him on the floor and started talking. “Are you angry at us?” She asked. 

“No,” he answered honestly. 

“Resentful, then?” 

“No.” 

Truth be told, his anger and resentment did exist, just not towards them—not towards anyone but himself. Natasha seemed to understand that and tilted her head for Tony to talk. But he didn’t. 

He knew that part of him missing out on so much on getting to know the Avengers or for them to know him much earlier was due to how so little he talked about himself and his feelings. Talking about technicalities of his work and science seemed far more important, but now he realizes that he could’ve been spared so many awkward situations and misunderstandings if he just _fucking_ talked. But how could he when all he has ever heard growing up was of how nobody wants to hear the rich kid’s sob story?

A part of him was grateful that the tapes have told his story for him, but a part of him was also angry for that reason. It was suffocating and confusing. His mind was back to crying for normalcy. 

“I get it,” Natasha finally said after the long silence. “I get why it bothers you that we’ve watched those tapes. If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t want anyone watching what I did during my time in the Red Room. But it’s been done. We watched them. How do you feel about it now?” 

Tony blinked at her. “It’s… whatever.” 

“It’s not ‘whatever.’ Not when you still feel a certain way about it.” 

“But it’s been done. Can’t change it. So, whatever.” 

“I don’t like when I lose to you in chess. Yeah, yeah you always win because you’re a smart bastard, but it still doesn’t change that I’m sore over being checkmated,” she said with a shrug. “How do you feel?” 

“I don’t know,” he answered, which was nothing short of the truth. “I guess a part of me wishes you guys never watched those. Another is… okay with it.” She didn’t speak, and he sighed and carried on. “It’s just… every one of you guys acts a certain way because of something. Steve doesn’t like the cold because it reminds him of the plane crash. You don’t like loud alarms because it reminds you of the Red Room. Bruce doesn’t like explosions because it reminds him of the incident. Clint doesn’t like long car rides because they remind him of the car crash that made him deaf. Thor doesn’t like being lied to because it reminds of his brother’s betrayals of him. I know these things because I asked. Because you guys were given the chance to talk. It feels like… it feels like that’s been… taken away from me. That’s the part of me that wishes you guys never watched the tapes. 

But then again, I can’t lie to myself. I know me. I know I would’ve never talked about shit. I know I would’ve continued isolating myself in my lab and thinking I’m better off on my own. I know I would’ve never explained shit. And none of you would know why I act the way I do. And it wouldn’t be fair because you don’t owe me a nice treatment if I just come off as an asshole. But then again being an asshole means I don’t have to be this weak and vulnerable, mentally fucked human being that I am.” 

He glanced over Natasha’s face and saw her eyes narrow in thought. “Do you, Tony Stark, think that the shit you’ve been through makes you weak?” 

“Oh, please. If you tell me some stupid shit like ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ I will detach Dum-E’s arm just to hurl it at you.” 

“No. I don’t think that’s the price it takes to prove strength or whatever. That’s just what people who have never went through shit say to traumatized people just to spare themselves the trouble of comforting them. But let’s agree that what you went through doesn’t automatically make you weak. And we don’t think you’re weak.” 

“Then… what do you think?” 

Natasha shrugged. “I think you’re pretty cool. You’re hella smart, a bastard at times, and fun to be around. Your sense of humor is the best and your sense of fashion is impeccable. And you’re so damn competitive and stubborn, it gives me headaches.” 

Tony’s eyes widened slightly. He couldn’t quite process that he’s not thought of as anything but what his mind has convinced him he is. But that’s the thing: no one told him such things. Sure, Natasha’s words didn’t magically heal him, but they did make him feel better. He doesn’t necessarily know it or is half convinced of it, but to hear it be told that he is thought of as someone more than his traumatizing experiences was relieving. 

They sat in silence for a while until Tony decided to ask, “Why do you always wear my clothes?” 

She smirked and pulled the hood over her head. “They’re super-duper comfy and I look much better in them, duh.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but smiled, nonetheless. She laughed when Dum-E beeped in protest and pulled at the hood, and Tony made the mental note of buying more hoodies for the redhead. 

“They also… smell different. In the Red Room, all our clothes had to smell of perfume or cologne. Yeah, it smelled good, but I hate it. Makes me sick. I honestly roamed around your closet in search for the keys you told me to get you that one time, and being the Russian bastard that I am, had to steal something.” 

“Jerk,” Tony muttered with a lighthearted glare. “And what do you mean ‘smells different’? I take a lotta good care of my clothes.” 

“Yeah, you do. Your hoodies and shirts smell like that one cotton scented detergent and motor oil. Probably from how much you’ve stained them with that stuff and how you hang around here all the time. S’good,” she said as she pulled the hem of the hoodie over her face and inhaled deeply. "So yeah. Your clothes are comfy.” 

Tony’s heart warmed at that, and he couldn’t help the shy smile on his face. 

“By the way,” she said as she got up to leave after spending hours upon hours talking about whatever came to their minds. “You do have the chance to talk, a story to tell. Whenever you want, I’m only a few floors away. And I’m pretty sure a particular infatuated soldier is all ears as it is whenever you do as much as breathe around him.” 

Tony rolled his eyes but blushed anyway. She bent down to his level to peck his cheek, and he closed his eyes to relish in the gentleness of it. “Good night, Antoshka.” 

“Antoshka?” 

“What your name would be in Russian. I can stop using it if you don’t li—” 

“No, I like it,” he said with wide, pleading eyes. He didn’t know what it is that he felt around Natasha, but it was warm and cozy with a dash of chaotic. Almost, dare he say, sibling-like. “Good night, Tasha. Sleep well.”

* * *

Whenever Clint and Tony were put in a room together, chaos ensued. Steve has lost count on the amount of times he has ran to the lab after hearing an explosion just to see the engineer and the archer’s faces smeared in oil, fist bumping as Clint exclaims “That was so fucking awesome!” 

Clint had also taught Tony how to go through any vent, and soon, used the knowledge of doing so to prank a Russian redhead, who had once run after the pair of troublemakers with threats of stabbing them while they laughed. At some point, Tony has run to hide behind Steve as he giggled and poked his head over the soldier’s shoulder just to stick his tongue out at the angry spy as her attempts at getting to Tony were blocked by the Captain. 

“Simmer down, children,” Bruce would shout with a smile from the kitchen, while Rhodey would shout new prank ideas for Tony and Clint to try. 

Clint absolutely loved spending time with Tony. All he ever did was laugh and learn cool science stuff, which he learned is called Physics. He had come to learn that him and the engineer shared quite a similar music taste, and often linked his playlists to Tony’s as he napped in his cloud-like vents. 

As time passed by, Tony grew to love spending time with his friends, which took him a while to come to terms with the fact that that’s what they are: friends. He hadn’t learned what friendship was until he met Rhodey, and he had always thought that the colonel would be his only friend. To have a support system, to be part of a team, was new and lovely. He loved getting to know more about these people. He would never admit it, but seeing Clint come out of his floor just to make the engineer listen to a new song he was sure they would both love made his heart flutter. 

Clint didn’t understand a lot of things about Tony, but he did try his best to be supportive despite his lack of knowledge on how to handle certain situations. One of said certain situations being once upon a lazy Sunday morning. 

He didn’t know what to do when Tony started teetering on the edge of panic. He didn’t even know what triggered it. They were sketching robots together and talking about Thor’s long absence, which led to speaking about Loki, which led to speaking about the battle of New York, which led to— 

_Oh._

“Hey, Tony, you’re alright! You’re safe. No aliens around, I swear,” Clint said and quickly realized his mistake when Tony flinched at the mention of aliens. “Right, right! No talking about that. Um, god, what should I do? How do I help you?” 

Tony was having a full-on panic attack now, and Clint would’ve called someone like Steve or Rhodey to do something if it weren’t for the fact that everyone was out of the tower on solo missions for a day, leaving him and Tony alone to binge watch shitty romcoms and chick flick movies and accidentally set food on fire. 

“S’f-fine. J-Just... s-stay,” Tony said through shallow breaths as he started clawing on the area around the glowing blue. Clint nodded miserably and promised to stay. Seeing Tony like this absolutely pained him, and he genuinely wanted to make him feel better and retreat to their silly conversations. Touching was out of the table, at least not when Tony was like this, so holding the engineer or running his fingers through the dark hair was a bad idea. The archer rummaged through his brain for another way he could help, and he prayed it would work. 

_“Here comes the rain again...”_ Clint started singing. _“Falling on my head like a memory. Falling on my head like a new emotion...”_

Tony shut his eyes as he attempted to focus on Clint’s voice. He felt his chest constrict as his mind fought for the chase after the light in the lyrics of the song. 

_“I want to walk in the open wind...”_ Clint continued. _“I want to talk like lovers do. I want to dive into your ocean. Is it raining with you?”_

By the time Clint finished the song, Tony’s chest was rising steadily and the shake his hands wore dissipated. His glassy eyes were pools of honey as the light directly hit his face from his position on the floor, and Clint had wanted to hold him and wipe the tears away. 

“Thank y-you,” Tony whispered. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about it, I promise,” Clint whispered. “I don’t understand what triggers you and what doesn’t, but please please please if I ever bring up something that bothers you, tell me to shut up and I will.” 

Tony blinked at the archer. He didn’t quite comprehend the statement, but it did have a warm, gentle hold on his heart. “Thank you,” he whispered again. 

“Nah, you don’t gotta thank me,” Clint smiled. “That’s what friends are for.” 

Tony resisted the urge to parrot the words in awe and coughed awkwardly to prevent his vocal cords from betraying him. “Why that song?” he asked instead. 

“It’s on all of your playlists,” Clint answered with a shrug. “Figured you must be a fan.” 

Tony wanted to cry right then and there. It always felt overwhelming to be noticed like that—for someone to take notice of little things such as his love for a specific song, not because he mentioned it, but because someone noticed. He could never quite get used to such thing, no matter how many times it has been displayed to him.

They put their sketches on hold and went to the communal area to watch yet another chick flick movie. 

Halfway through, Clint accidentally fell asleep on the couch by his side, Tony got a blanket to put over the archer and watched him snuggle to it and sigh in his sleep. He smiled to himself and wished his friend a peaceful sleep. And as he walked to his lab, he came to learn that he didn’t necessarily need someone to perfectly understand him, he simply needed someone who put in the effort to. 

* * *

He flipped the file before him closed and handed it back to Fury. 

“I think I’m happy with my position,” he said, which was nothing short of the truth. Sure, it had stung a bit to be TONY STARK: NOT RECOMMENDED, but now that the words lack the NOT, it didn’t feel as extraordinary as he thought it would. 

Being the Avengers’ consultant is a job he had come to enjoy and do right by. Besides, he didn’t need a file to declare his worth of a certain title to do the right thing. He was still the man behind Iron Man, and no one would ever be able to take that away from him, recommended or not. 

“You still earned the title of Avenger whether you accept of it or not,” Fury explained. 

“And you still can’t afford me, remember?” Tony smirked. Fury smiled and nodded as he recalled those words. The director landed a firm hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Just as long as you get to live on to prove us all wrong, I’m one happy old man.” 

* * *

Everybody goes through something that changes them—something that becomes the juxtaposition of who they are now and who they were before. Tony didn’t necessarily know who he was supposed to be if he hadn’t been subjected to abuse. He often wondered if his identity was even his own, and not of whoever he had saw an escape and comfort in molding himself into, but he never truly allowed himself to dwell on that. He still didn’t accept his childhood even after all those years, for he yearned for innocence and all it is that came with it. He didn’t want to allow himself to feel a sense of grief over the death of young and vulnerable years he didn’t even get to live through. It was all too late, anyway. 

“I tell you what,” his therapist said upon raising the topic. “Why don’t you allow yourself a day to act as childish and as spontaneous as you want?” 

“Have you not seen a single interview of mine?” Tony answered with a raised brow. 

“Not in that way. What I mean is to give yourself a day where you don’t have to give something too much thought. Maybe you could try coloring or something. Something that could allow your mind to rest,” she suggested. 

“I already draw things like you told me to,” Tony frowned. 

“You always draw robots and turn them into projects for your company. That defeats the purpose,” she said. Upon Tony’s confused look, she went on to explain. “PTSD and addiction seem to come together in most patients. It functions as a coping mechanism, albeit self-destructive. Of course, you wouldn’t see that. But Tony, you must understand that we need to work on fixing the problem, rather than running away from it. Tell me, when do you feel the safest?” 

“I feel safe when I tinker,” Tony mumbled as his eyes darted around the room as if searching for an answer. 

“I know that, but your tinkering is falling under an unhealthy coping mechanism. It has developed into an addiction to make up for the drugs and alcohol. Don’t you want to try to find something better? Something that could make you feel good?” 

He gulped and nodded. He desperately needs something he can rely on to make him feel better. He can’t possibly rely on people all the time especially with his fear of becoming such a burden on them. He also was still working on his ongoing issue of the occasional fear of the Captain.

“Any other point in your life where stress is nonexistent? Do you recall a point in your life, even if it were in the past, where you have felt safe?” 

Tony frowned as his mind raced through memory after memory of a time where he felt somewhat that way. “I... think my time in MIT, maybe?” 

“Maybe?” she repeated. “Tell me about it if you please.” 

“Rhodey and I used to pull pranks all the time on people we didn’t like,” he said with a fond smile, and his doctor couldn’t help but mirror that smile as he spoke of their miraculous pranks. He spoke with a glee his therapist has not seen on him before, but it died down quickly. “It was always worth it. Seeing Rhodey laugh and smile because we got a bastard good. But I was heavily monitored by the administration there because of my father’s orders. So I always got in a lot of trouble whenever I returned back to the mansion for the holidays.” 

The doctor suppressed a frown. “How about now? What makes you feel the safest now?” 

He didn’t have to think hard for this. “Being around Steve does...” 

“Haven’t you said before that—” 

“That he scares me. Which he does sometimes. I just...” he let out a frustrated sigh before he continued. “Sometimes I see him as nothing but the posters from my room back then. Or the Steve Rogers who would be so proud of me for doing whatever Howard forced me to do. Or the Captain America I could never amount to. It’s the worst thing ever because I do have feelings for him. And because I know he’s nothing like that. He’s so kind and so good and it just fucking angers me so much that sometimes I can’t see it.” 

The doctor nodded as she clicked her pen to write something down. “Do you not see a middle ground? Is the Captain either totally bad or totally good in your eyes?” 

He sighed again. He was getting exhausted. “Not... ‘bad,’ just scary. Which angers me. Which I have once taken out on him until I scared him. Which made me feel like shit. Which I don’t want to happen again. Which I need to fucking fix.” 

“Why do you feel the need to fix such issue?” 

And here it comes: the admittance of just how much power Steve has grown to have over him. He whispered, “Because I’m petrified of losing him.” 

Although the duration of his session was up, he requested an extra hour in which they talked of safe, healthy ways he could cope by. She suggested taking care of pets _(“I’m allergic to cats and dogs intimidate me.”),_ taking at least two hours long breaks in between his working hours just to meditate and practice mindfulness _(“But I got a company to run.”),_ initiating social gatherings _(“Sure...”),_ practicing anti-perfectionism _(“Easier said than done.”),_ and practicing the art of reaching out to others when needing help _(“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see about that...”)._

When the session was over, he felt drained like he always did. He really didn’t feel up to any interactions with anyone, especially not Pepper who had let him know the D.O.D. have approved of the Stark Expo, to which he kept arguing back and forth with her to cancel. “I’m not on my cycle, Pepper!” he yelled. “Abort mission!” 

He really needed space, but he also didn’t want to be alone, which ended up with him grunting in annoyance at the littlest of things as he sipped on bitter coffee in the kitchen and glaring at his mug as if it offended him. When Steve had walked up to him all smiles and sunshine, he felt a bit at ease, but his frown and glare didn’t falter.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve said as he beamed at the genius, who suddenly found it incredibly hard to maintain his glare. 

“Today’s just not my day.” 

Steve hummed. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Tony didn’t want to talk about it. If anything, he wanted to walk Steve to his room and sleep on his warm chest, hearing the echoes of his heartbeats against his ears, and feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as calloused fingers run through his untamed hair. For now, he just grumbled at any mere inconvenience. 

It was moments like these when Steve tried as best as possible to show support and rain reassurances down on the brunet. It was easy to do so and in no time. Tony was smiling again. Of course, Steve knew a thing or two about pushing the dust under the rug, but he also knew that Tony wasn’t necessarily a huge fan of speaking openly about his feelings in front of an audience, so he would wait until they were alone in the lab and give him words of encouragement and reassurance. Slowly but surely, the brunet would start to speak, and Steve would listen intently. 

For now, they bickered about random things and overheard Natasha and Clint argue over what movie to watch. At some point, Rhodey walked into the tower in his uniform and greeted his best friend like usual: by ruffling his hair until he either giggled or groaned frustratingly. Tony loved those. 

“Hey, sour patch,” Rhodey mumbled as he set a box of doughnuts on the counter. 

Steve watched as the colonel stared at Tony’s uninterested and scornful face before casually asking, “How was therapy?” 

Tony glared harder and answered, “Clearly, not working. But hey. Fake it until you make it.” 

“Is that so?” Rhodey asked around a mouthful of doughnuts. “You’re not even giving yourself time to check in on your progress.” 

Truth be told, he didn’t see progress. All he saw were his slip ups and bad days. His therapist always reminded him that progress is not linear; there will be inflection points along the way. Tony Stark is a man of logic and science, and he understood things most human beings wouldn’t, but this was simply too hard to grasp the concept of. He was not going to give up on therapy, however. Not now, anyway. He needed to give himself more time. He understood that aspect of it solely because he has tied it to science and his ways of collecting data. Collecting data takes time to understand and improve. Surely this is the case with him. _Right?_

It didn’t matter whether he improves by the next minute, the next hour, the next week, the next year, or even the next decade. What mattered is that he had a purpose, something— _no, some people_ —to live for. 

So he let himself have bad days. He let his mind wander. He let himself be dramatic as he lamented over his exhaustion and frustration. The best part? Everyone around him engaged with him in it. When he sprawled over the couch, a frown etched on his face, Natasha sprawled on the floor next to him and started talking about an interesting conspiracy theory she came up with. When his mind wasn’t quite there to focus on the movie they gathered around to watch, Rhodey held him close to his chest and ruffled his hair like he always did. When he couldn’t focus on any of his tasks in his lab, Bruce dragged him to the lab of his floor instead and worked on an entirely new and fun project together. When he almost cried at the media’s recall of his days working with Obadiah, Clint turned the TV off and took him to his cloud-like vents to listen to his favorite music and eat as many blueberries as he wanted. When he couldn’t sleep at night, Steve walked into his room and took him into his embrace as he read a book out loud and watched the brunet fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. 

He had bad days, and he most probably will always have those. But he never had bad days alone. 

* * *

Thor has arrived from Asgard. The god walked in on them throwing his usual smile and warm, tight hugs. Something that Tony admired about Thor is that he didn’t hesitate to hug him the same as everybody else, but the genius did notice something unusual about the god, and it wasn’t just the black strand of hair braided into his blonde type. 

“You okay, pointbreak?” 

“Ay, I am,” Thor said as he held onto the short man’s shoulders. “The artificial man living in your ceiling tells me you have a surprise for me.” 

“Ay, I do,” Tony mimicked his voice, and smiled when the god barked a laugh. 

The floor Tony has designed for the god was the hardest to work through. The theme of it was that of space, which Tony struggled not to have panic attacks over as it reminded him of the New York battle. Instead of installing a telescope, the windows themselves have been designed to function as one big lens of said device that zooms into not just the solar system, but of the nine realms, as well as displays various information of whatever he clicks on. An eyepatch was given to the giant man as a piece of nanotechnology that would help him see through the galaxies and stars. There was also an installed stand for Mjolnir that charged its electrons, giving it a great boost upon being used in battle. Generally, the whole place looked like it belonged to NASA, and Thor had smiled brightly as he praised the engineer. 

“This is extravagant! My dearest gratitude and appreciation for such lovely surprise,” the god smiled as he placed firm, gentle hands by the brunet’s shoulders. “You have been a great friend, Man of Iron. This lovely surprise was much needed. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. No need to thank me,” the genius said as he narrowed his eyes at the god. “Something’s up with you. What’s the matter? Something happened on Asgard?” 

Thor’s smile faltered, and his hands dropped to his sides. Tony watched as the giant man walked to the window and touched at its glass to operate it. His hand zoomed through realm upon realm, until he stopped at one that appeared to be in a state of winter. The god stood there staring at the various three-dimensional images revealed of the realm, which Tony learned is called Jutonheim. Although Tony has placed various comforting and big enough couches for the god, he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and continued staring into the icy land. 

“My mother’s dead. Loki’s dead,” he muttered. “My brother is dead.” 

The brunet stood there awkwardly for a solid minute. He felt exhausted and on edge, but he swallowed down his panic at the mention of the God of Mischief. Because although Loki was of no reason and one could smell crazy on him, he was Thor’s brother. Tony still remembers how Thor had explained how unfairly their father has treated Loki, and Tony automatically found himself sympathizing for the jet-black haired god until Natasha had reminded them that he killed eighty people in two days.

Tony naturally found himself taking a seat next to Thor, who appeared to be holding tears in his blue-green eyes. “He wasn’t allowed to walk through her funeral. Odin knew of how much he loved her. He still didn’t allow him. Only then did I see...” 

Tony nearly gasped at the sight of the God of Thunder’s tears rolling down right before his eyes. All he ever saw on the God’s face were either smiles or wrath upon enemies. 

But this was the something that everybody goes through that changes them—something that becomes the juxtaposition of who they are now and who they were before, and Thor wasn’t immune to it. Thor trusted the genius to see who he is now, and although Tony felt emotionally drained, he did somehow find it honoring to be trusted that way. 

“You don’t have to blame yourself. Odin’s ways with your brother are not your fault,” Tony whispered. 

“You are right. They weren’t. But they killed my brother, and I miss him terribly,” Thor’s voice cracked as he touched through the braided strand, and Tony realized that the black hair strand must be of Loki’s. 

God knows just how much Tony had needed to hear words of comfort when he lost Jarvis to cancer. He had screamed and drank himself to sleep almost every night. It didn’t help that Aunt Peggy was almost always not around due to her work. He had craved for someone to be around, to tell him it’s okay to grieve, to allow him to. All he ever heard from Obadiah was _“Move on. People die all the time.”_ He always held his chin up high for no other reason but to trap the tears behind his eyelids. He didn’t know any better. All he ever knew was to be a man of iron until he quite literally became one. 

“You will miss them. Always. That feeling will never truly leave you alone. You might as well let yourself feel it now,” Tony said. “Grieve. Blame Odin all you want. Feel however way you want and let yourself feel it for however long you need to.” He reached his arm out to land a firm hand on Thor’s shoulder. “But please, for the love of whatever you believe in, don’t let yourself go through this shit alone. Please. If you aren’t ready to tell the team of this, I can always keep a secret. And you know where to find me, and if you don’t, just ask JARVIS.” 

Thor stared at the Midgardian before him and held onto his hand. He let the tears he had profusely wiped away roll freely down his cheeks. The words Tony have rained down on him served him greatly, and Tony smiled fondly at the god. 

“Thank you, Tony,” Thor whispered as he smiled back. “You are man not just of iron, but of gold, too. I will never forget this.” 

“Shh, don’t mention it. Just tell me, do you need time alone or do you want me to stay with you?” 

Thor’s hands went to wipe at his tears, and Tony placed his hands over them. “Let them fall. It’s okay, I promise. I can go if you want to have the moment to yourself.” 

Thor nodded. “M-My dearest apologies.” 

“Don’t be silly. Whatever you need, remember? Just let JARVIS know of whenever you’d want someone’s company.” 

Thor shot him a weak, genuine smile and nodded his acknowledgement. Tony went back to his lab to resume his work. If he had felt drained and on edge just an hour ago, he felt a mixture of sadness and relief all at once. Sadness for what Thor must be going through, and relief over the fact that he didn’t have to go through it alone. “Hey, JARVIS? Try to talk to Thor, okay? Keep him company and all. Maybe he’ll find it easy to open up to you.” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

Late at night, and a few hours into his work, Tony received a message of an attached document from Thor. He opened it, and a hologram of gold-silver-red castles built on a realm came into view. 

> **ALFHIEM**
> 
> _**POPULATION B.I.M (Before Iron Man):**_ _1.5 Million -approx.-_
> 
> _**POPULATION A.I.M (After Iron Man):** 4 Million -approx.-_
> 
> _The people of Alfhiem have been terrorized by the Chitauries for centuries. All had been put to an end when a man of Midgard—often regarded on his realm as Iron Man, however, his birth name has been reported to be Stark, Anthony (PREFERRED FORENAME: Tony)—had performed an act of absolute bravery and honor by directing a nuclear weapon into the portal from which the army had been granted access to his realm. Upon such act, he has been declared Earth’s Defender. Statues of the man could be seen in the capital of Alfhiem, and have been built with much advanced technology to honor his career._
> 
> _Long live Tony Stark—Iron Man: Earth’s Defender and mighty hero._

* * *

Steve couldn't keep his eyes off Tony no matter how hard he tried. Mostly because he feared that the brunet would end up injured under Natasha's hands, but as they started their sparring session, it seemed that she was giving more a tutorial, so Steve leaned back on the couch by the boxing ring and watched on. 

"In hand to hand combat, you must train your eyes before your hands. You gotta understand that my hands or whatever weapon I could be holding is only a distraction," she said as Tony set his eyes on her instead of her fisted hands. She gave a satisfied smile and continued. "Your real and true problem is with me, not my fists or whatever weapon I could possess." 

With that being said, she threw a punch, and Tony's reflexes avoided it just on time. "Good," she praised. "Now let's practice some more." 

They went on for a few more minutes. Tony was a quick learner, although a few of Natasha's punches had come awfully close. 

"Okay, that was excellent. Impressive, even," Natasha said with a bright smile. Warmth surged through Tony’s heart at the praise. "Now let's move onto the good stuff." 

Steve watched as Tony moved accordingly. At some point, he got knocked down and Natasha took the opportunity to teach him how he could escape a chokehold. At first, Steve sat on the edge of his seat as he anticipated the worst, but Tony's eyes were filled with determination and brilliance. He followed through the redhead's words and was able to escape as well as land a punch on her. 

"Steve! I just punched the Black Widow!" Tony beamed, to which Steve laughed and shook his head. Natasha got up and stuck her tongue out at the genius, who scrunched his face and stuck his tongue back at her, only for her to kick him down again. 

Steve watched on amusedly as the pair engaged in harmless combat, and it seemed like Tony was holding up well to it all. He smiled proudly whenever Tony landed a kick or a punch to the redhead or whenever he deflected her attempts of attack. 

However, as Tony started to sweat, he took his jacket off to expose the tight long-sleeved shirt he had been wearing underneath. It clung to the contours of his muscles quite well and Steve found himself staring in interest. Somehow, his ears grew hyperaware of every grunt, groan, and moan Tony let out. He blinked a few times and bowed his head down to get a grip on himself, but by the time he lifted his head up, Tony had peeled the long sleeved shirt off his body, and Steve's mind grew fuzzy as all it could think of is how good Tony looks in that black tank top. His muscles were glistening with sweat, his hair has travelled in all directions, and his body just kept moving. 

Steve excused himself to the bathroom, and practically ran out of the entire gym area and to the bathroom on his floor. He had never felt as ashamed as when he shoved his hands down his pants, his mind flooded with nothing but images of Tony’s body, Tony’s hair, Tony’s voice, Tony’s smile, Tony’s laugh, Tony’s lips _(god, they had felt so soft)_ , Tony’s lips _(god, if only that kiss lasted longer)_ , Tony’s lips _(god, do I want him)._

But he can’t. And he falls to his knees in time with finding his release as he sobs. Shame and guilt loomed over his head as he cried and cried. “God,” his hoarse voice croaked into the silent room. All he did was hug his knees as his eyes poured their misery. Although he no longer struggled with Asthma, he could feel his chest constrict uncomfortably and his breaths come short. He knew he had to get up, wash up, and return to Tony; sweet, beautiful Tony who didn’t deserve what he had been subjected to throughout his life. Tony who deserved saving. Tony who deserved love and attention and the touch of a gentle hand. Tony who had been scared and alone and wondering _Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he saving me?_

Tony who deserved patience and reassurance, and Steve who swore every night that he would give him just that. 

He resisted the urge to slap himself right across the face as hard as he could. Instead, he got up to wash away the cum on his hands and the tears on his cheeks, but couldn’t quite wash away the guilt and misery smothering his heart. 

He walked in on the gym again, and Tony’s eyes immediately landed on the soldier. He excused himself out of the ring and went over to the baby blue eyed man. 

“You alright?” Tony said breathlessly. Steve shuddered. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Steve tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. 

Steve knew that as much as he could go around boasting about how much he has come to know about Tony, Tony knew just as much if not even more about him. So it was not a surprise when Tony crossed his arms and glared playfully at Steve. “I don’t believe you. Hey, Nat! You believe this guy?” 

“Nope!” Natasha chimed in from the boxing ring. 

“See? She doesn’t believe you,” Tony said. When Steve sighed in defeat and sat down, Tony’s eyes narrowed, and his head tilted in confusion. Steve wanted to scream it right then and there—how good, _so good,_ Tony looked. How his hair looked flawlessly disheveled, how the sweat made his muscles glisten and his clothes cling tighter onto his perfectly sculpted body, how much Steve ached for him, how he looked like warmth and sunshine and everything that Steve would never dare be late for. 

“Steve?” Tony whispered as he knelt before him. Steve suppressed a gasp when Tony’s hands cupped his cheeks. His hands felt sweaty and warm, _warm, warm._

But nothing felt as warm as seeing a glowing blue emit form Tony’s chest. Nothing felt as warm as being in the presence of Tony. 

“I’m okay,” Steve said, his tone soft and fond for the man before him, yet accompanied by a biting finality to it reserved for himself. “I’m okay.” 

Tony’s concerned eyes continued to inspect every inch of Steve’s face, and when Steve gave a weak smile, he took in his right hand to kiss the soldier’s palm. “You’re not okay, tesoro. How about I take you out, hm?” 

“Wha-” Steve blinked dumbfoundedly. 

“Wear that black jacket you wore a few days ago, please. Be ready in an hour. Now if you excuse me, I have a Russian spy to punch,” Tony said and started to walk back into the boxing ring. 

Steve’s feet would’ve jumped in excitement if they hadn’t felt so light. He felt like one of those girls in those chick flick movies Clint loved so much where the girl finally gets to go out with her crush. He couldn’t contain his smile as he went to shower and sing. He threw away various items of clothing carelessly until he found the black bomber jacket Tony was referring to and kept sighing in frustration when his hair didn’t look as perfectly as he wanted it to. 

“Fuck,” Steve muttered under his breath. He paused. This was new, intense, and nothing that he could chase after or find a simple release for. This was a newfound, liberating kind of power that Tony had over him. Just a few minutes ago, Steve felt drowned not by cold water, but by guilt and shame. Now, he sang in the shower and cursed at his stray golden locks. And the best part was that it was all because of Tony. 

Sex might be pleasuring, warm, and could possibly make him see stars, but love feels light and intense all at once. The warmth that engulfed him was steady and everlasting. Sure, the chase after release could make him see stars, but nothing was as fascinating as the glowing blue—life, love, a second chance, nothing short of seeing galaxies and planets drop to their knees before him. 

To hell with his desires and body’s biology. He still stood by his words of only truly caring about Tony’s happiness and sanity. True, somedays he feels his body heat up with the need of fulfilling sexual desires, but he would rather break every single bone of his body than let that come before Tony’s healing process. He has waited seventy years for the future. He’ll wait forever if he has to for the futurist himself. 

“Hey, JARVIS?” Steve looked at the ceiling as he spoke. “Tony said a word when he was talking to me. Um, tess-orrow, I think. What does it mean?” 

“Tesoro,” JARVIS corrected. “It’s an Italian word. A term of endearment that means ‘sweetheart.’ Its literal meaning, however, translates to ‘treasure.’” 

“Tesoro,” Steve repeated with a smile. 

It was right then and there that Steve realized that nothing in the world was as pleasuring as loving Tony and becoming his tesoro.

* * *

He didn’t know what to expect. Tony refused to tell him of where they were heading. But as they came to a stop by the woods, Steve raised his brows in surprise. “Camping?” 

“Nope. Just follow me,” Tony grinned as he hopped out of the car. 

They walked alongside each other in silence. Steve didn’t question anything, at least not now. He glanced towards the short man walking by his side to see a small smile grace his lips and a peaceful look in his eyes. Besides, whether he knew or not of where Tony was taking him, he didn’t care. He’d follow Tony wherever he went without a second thought. 

The slight breeze of March and the blue skies of the afternoon promised a beautiful spring, and Steve did enjoy the walk among the tall trees and the chirps of birds. 

“Don’t worry. I’m actually taking you somewhere,” Tony said. 

“Wherever you take me, I'll go,” Steve said as he smiled and watched Tony shyly turn his face the other way. “I love when you blush.” 

“Shut up,” Tony whined as he playfully pushed Steve away from him. 

They took a turn to some sort of gate decorated in a camouflage of green leaves. Tony moved a few leaves out of the brick wall to reveal a screen that recognized his handprint. It greeted him as it displayed his name and the gate of leaves parted enough for them to enter and shut right after. 

Steve marveled at the sight before him: a large field of what the soldier believed had all types of flowers. It smelled of spring and blooming hope. There was a large tree in the far-right side of the field by the daisies. Steve couldn’t help but think of how much his mother would’ve loved this place, and his hands itched for a pencil and a sketchbook in hopes of capturing a fraction of such beauty.

“No one knows of this place. It’s my getaway, and the first thing I bought with my inheritance money,” Tony said when Steve’s eyes focused on him. 

They walked around the field as they talked and joked around and laughed until their hearts felt full. Steve saw as Tony’s chocolate brown eyes became pools of honey under the sun, and although the man stood amid flowers of all colors and types, he remained the most beautiful creature among them all. 

They sat under the tree, where Steve’s eyes caught on various carvings on its trunk. He traced his hand along an angry carving of _WHEN AM I GONNA FIND A HOME_ , and his eyes softened in sadness at the sentence he has heard being screamed amidst ruins of a luxurious mansion. 

“I used to come here with a bottle or two and get drunk out of my mind. Back when I was some angsty teenager. You’ve seen it...” Tony said as he sat by the soldier. “So ignore whatever weird shit you might come across.” 

“Nobody knows of this place?” Steve asked. 

“Nope. No one. Feel special,” Tony smiled and so did Steve. 

“How can I not feel special just by being around you?” 

“Oh god, you’re such a flirt.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence for some time. At some point, Steve hummed a tune, and Tony laid his head on the soldier’s lap and listened to the soft melody. Steve was aware of how much trust Tony was putting in his hands, and he wanted to cry right then and there of how grateful he is for it all. 

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s so beautiful.” 

“I knew you’d like it,” Tony beamed. 

“You know, my mom used to have this garden. She used to plant herbs and flowers. Her favorite flowers to plant were tulips,” Steve said as he picked on a daisy by his side, his eyes glazed with reminiscence over the past. 

Tony loved when Steve would share with him stories or memories of his past. The soldier somehow looked much younger whenever he spoke of them. “How was she like?” Tony asked, and was all ears when the blonde’s lips naturally curled in a radiant smile as he spoke. 

“You would’ve loved her. She was young and full of life. Even when she got sick, she was still on the move,” Steve let out a breathless chuckle as he remembered how his mother refused to stay in bed because _Who else would feed the birds by the window, Steven?_

It felt so peaceful to talk about the past for what it is: the past. He had struggled to come to terms with the fact that he will never live through that era ever again. He didn’t want to hear it when all what people would say was that he was made for the future, and he wanted to scream whenever people answered his questions by shoving bright screens to his face. Whenever he did speak of the past, it felt constricting to his lungs and heavy on his heart. There was a part of him that continued to deny the ticking clocks, the digitalized calendars, and the smart watches that felt like cuffs on his wrists. 

Now, there’s a radiant smile on his lips, a light breeze running its fingers through his hair, blooming flowers, and a gorgeous man resting his head upon his lap. The warmth that engulfed him felt liberating—no constriction upon his lungs, heavy weight on his heart, or coldness. Just warmth. Just love. 

And the engineer beamed with triumph at the Captain, because god knows just how much Tony wanted to make him laugh and smile. But there was nothing as beautiful as watching the soldier speak of the past with a contagious smile and steady hands, his figure only shaking when he laughed. Tony loved how human he is—nothing, _absolutely fucking nothing_ like the poster hung above his bed, and _absolutely fucking nothing_ like the descriptions Howard has given him of the Captain. He loved how his baby blue eyes glinted when a butterfly landed on his shoulder, and how he tilted his head just to show him his smile when Tony would say something flirty. 

As the hours somehow went by, Steve asked, “Why this place? You have a thing for flowers?” 

Tony sat up, and Steve suppressed a whine and the need to tell the man to _stay. Rest your head and soul on me. I will hold you close to me even when you aren’t, for the image of you is always held with care in my heart._

“The mansion was always full of weapons and tech. Even the sunflowers were plastic.” Steve looked around the field and realized that it was devoid of sunflowers. He made a mental note to never include those in bouquets he was sure to spoil the engineer with in the future. “When my parents died, I had to be in the funeral, of course. I loved all the flowers that decorated the place. They looked so pretty, Steve. It was the first time I fell in love with something that wasn’t a machine. So I bought this place,” Tony said as he spread his arms as if to display the field. “I came here so often. Even after I had bought the tower. Just recently did I realize I hadn’t come here in a while.” 

Steve frowned. “Why not?” 

Tony knew he was going to say it. It felt natural and right. This is what his life has been leading up to: this moment. His fears and triggers were still present, and they most probably always will be. However, in this very fine moment, nothing mattered but those baby blue eyes. His tongue ached with the need to say it, and his heart was picking up the pace of its beats as it anticipated it. 

“I feel safe here, that much is true,” he whispered. “But I also feel safe with you.” 

Tony cupped Steve’s face with both hands as he lunged in with passion and need—a kiss. Steve’s mouth moved along, following wherever Tony went. He felt Tony’s figure straddle his lap, and he couldn’t help the surge of pride he felt at the initiation of such a bold move. He didn’t let his hands dare roam through the man’s body, and Tony took note of that and wanted to thank the blonde man for being so patient, so caring, so kind, so perfect.

His therapist has basically drilled it into his head that he doesn’t owe people anything for simply tolerating him, and he did try to practice the art of saying “No” and of not feeling bad about it, as well as learning how to shamelessly change his mind even if it meant leaving people hanging. 

But this was different. This was Tony trying to reclaim his right of choosing to do this. This was his way of also letting Steve know that he is getting better and that he will someday be able to give Steve more and more overtime. This was him letting Steve know that Steve is helping far more than he thinks. He’s trying to master the arts of not owing people things, including himself. Steve just deserves to feel good, and for the first time, Tony is feeling good, too—something he didn’t know could be possible as he always thought that intimacy will always cost his discomfort and pain. 

There’s no price to be paid. There’s no discomfort as he slides his tongue into the blonde’s mouth to dance along his own, and there’s no pain when he guides Steve’s hands on his waist and hips. There are only blooming flowers. 

He takes it further because he wants to and disconnects the kiss to place his mouth on Steve’s neck, who’s eyes droop in a haze of wonder and marvel at just how warm and good— _so good_ —it feels. He tilts his head back to give Tony much more access of his skin and feels a smile against his neck before the brunet starts planting wet kisses. Steve tried so hard to suppress his moans, but when Tony started biting gently at a sensitive spot, a soft moan escaped his lips, and Tony smiled. This was the first time that he has ever heard such a sound without it being accompanied by his screams and cries for things to stop, and his ears could hear it well instead of muffling the sound like it always did when he wasn’t sober. 

He bit at the sweet spot again and heard the sweet sound again. 

Steve’s hands were gentle as they moved along Tony’s back and thighs. He didn’t dare go any further than what Tony has guided his hands to. All what mattered was whatever Tony was doing, and in that fine moment, Steve was on cloud nine. He wasn’t underestimating Tony, but he simply couldn’t believe that this was real. It felt too warm, too good, too perfect. He truly didn’t think anything could make this day any better. 

Tony pulled away as he breathed heavily. His eyes were dazed with the toll the act of intimacy must have taken on him. Steve was perfectly understanding of that, and he greeted the dopey smile on the brunet’s face with a warm one. “This was so good. You’re so good. God, you’re the absolute best,” Steve said breathlessly. Tony giggled as his eyes drooped and his head rested atop the soldier’s chest. 

Steve ran his fingers through the dark hair and placed a kiss on the man’s forehead. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” he whispered. 

They sat there in a comfortable silence, with Tony held tightly against Steve’s chest. The brunet couldn’t help the sigh of content that escaped him as he nuzzled his face against the blonde’s warm chest, often hearing his heart skip a beat. For the first time, he didn’t feel so small. If anything, what he felt was pleasantly strange. He didn’t know the word he could use for it, but as he turned his head towards the tree that witnessed his miserable years and held angry carvings as proof of so, he knew what it was. 

_WHEN AM I GONNA FIND A HOME_

“I found it,” he whispered to himself, but the soldier's ears heard it just fine. He followed Tony’s eyes, and his own watered in warmth and pride. Tony turned his head to face the soldier. “I found you.” 

Steve let out a cry of joy. This was all he had ever wanted. “I’m so—” 

And here it was again. The black cloud that promised a storm if he says the wrong thing, and he immediately bowed his head down and shut his mouth because he can’t afford to ruin this. The genius seemed to understand where he had meant to go with this, and he lifted the soldier’s chin as he looked up to him. “You’re nothing like what he has described you to be. Thank you for proving him wrong,” his thumb traced over Steve’s lips until the curves lifted up in a shy smile. “Now tell me. What did you wanna say?” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Steve whispered. Tony smiled triumphantly. 

“Thank you,” he whispered back. 

Steve was utterly convinced that absolutely nothing could make this day any better. He was crying tears of joy upon being proven wrong when Tony looked into his baby blue eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

* * *

Although things seemed to be in his favor for once, his panic attacks somehow got worse, because now new ideas started scaring him. He thought he would be able to stomach it down, but quickly discovered that he couldn’t. Not when the image of Chitauries were flying around the dead bodies of the Avengers and Steve’s struggling voice told him _“You could’ve saved us. Why didn’t you do more?”_ —his most recent nightmare that sent him into a spiral of panic and dread. 

After half an hour of just trying to get a grip, he decided to walk into the communal kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was three AM, and he didn’t expect anyone to be awake, but when JARVIS alerted him that Bruce was there, he instantly felt better. He won’t be alone. 

“Early morning or late night?” Tony chimed in as he entered the room. Bruce’s shoulders relaxed upon the engineer’s presence.

“Late night,” he answered. 

“What’s keeping you up?” Tony asked nonchalantly as he started the coffee machine. Bruce shuddered. 

_Anthony Edward Stark announced dead. Thursday the fifteenth of Nov—_

“Nightmare,” he muttered as his eyes sought after the blue light emitting from the engineer’s chest. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

But Bruce didn’t respond, and as Tony dragged his cup along with him to a stool opposing the Doctor, he tried again. “Bruce?” 

Something Tony always understood about Bruce’s case was that it was hard on the Doctor to stay focused when the Other Guy was present in his head and often dissociated. So Tony nodded to himself. “Right. I’ll wait for you, Bruce. You just gotta come back to me.” 

With that being said, Tony grabbed his tablet and started going through paperwork. Occasionally, he would glance towards the man before him and see him sport the same dissociated state. Until Tony went to put a hand over the arc reactor as it became a habit of his to do so, and Bruce flinched violently before settling down again. 

“Sorry. Sorry about that. I just—” 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tony cooed as he brushed his thumb over Bruce’s hand. “You alright?” 

Bruce looked up at the man’s face, then back to the glowing blue. He nodded. “Yeah, I'm alright.” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” Tony said with a roll to his eyes. “Are you alright? Like really, really alright?” Bruce didn’t reply. “Come on, man,” Tony whispered. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m just so fucking glad you’re alive,” Bruce said as his eyes glazed with hot tears. 

Tony’s lips frowned in understanding of where this was coming from. Rhodey had told him that Bruce was in the surgery room when the doctors had almost given up and verbally announced him dead. For someone like Bruce, he figured out it must have been traumatizing. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Please don’t,” Bruce whispered as the tears cascaded down his cheeks. “You don’t owe me an apology. Just... I care about you, Tones. I hope you know that.” 

“Only if you know I care about you. And the Other Guy, too,” Tony said with a fond smile. 

“We care, Tin Man,” Hulk’s voice erupted from within the scientist’s throat. “We always care about Tin Man.” 

Tony giggled and patted the green patch of skin that came upon Bruce’s hand. “Prove it. Make me my favorite food, pretty please.” 

Bruce chuckled. “Anything for my favorite mechanic.” 

* * *

_One soldier down._

_Two soldiers down._

_Three soldiers down._

_The war knew no victory, and his heart knew no steady beat._

_His hands extended to hold onto a fallen soldier, whose face morphed into that of Sergeant Barnes._

_“Bucky!” he screamed as his fingertips brushed over the Sergeant’s hand, but never got to hold it. He watched his best friend fall, but Bucky was one of many as he saw army green bodies fall like snow._

_The screech of the train scraped over his ears, and he fell right along with the soldiers to land not on the clad in snow ground, but in an abyss._

_Black. No light. No escape. Silence._

_Then, suddenly, a sound of pixelated static._

_“Accidents will happen,” a heavy German accent chimed through. He tried to look around for the source of it, tried to run, but his body refused to cooperate. “Your death amounts to the same as your life,” the voice continued as green pixels started coming into his field of vision, “A zero sum.”_

_The green pixels dissipated to reveal the windshield of the plane falling to the ocean. He was pushing at the lever to his demise yet again._

_“When history doesn’t cooperate,” the voice continued as he neared the cold ocean. “History gets changed.”_

_He was sure the plane crashed into the ocean. He was sure he was inside of it. It didn’t make any sense for him to land before Red Skull’s dead body in a HYDRA facility._

_He got up, red-blue-white shield in hand. A glowing blue cube shone through Red Skull’s hand—the Tesseract—and he ran to get hold of it. When he managed to get it out of the red hand’s grasp, his mind panicked upon the realization that he was holding the arc reactor. He looked over what he was sure was Red Skull’s dead body but has somehow become Tony’s. What was once a HYDRA facility morphed into Tony’s lab. He looked down again at his shaking hand, and the device glowed and glowed until it blinded him with its light._

_When he opened his eyes, he heard a loud jazz melody play. Soldiers and women dressed in big dresses laughed and danced around the dance room. They drank and cheered on for the music to get louder, and he looked around for someone he might recognize, but all their faces didn’t ring a bell._

_The saxophone got louder. The laughs got hysterical. The red in the room got richer and richer, and he saw the men and women bleed through their clothes._

_“Steven,” he heard Peggy’s voice say, and he turned around to see her. Young. White dress shirt. Black pencil skirt. Red lips. Exactly how he remembers her. “Why aren’t you home?”_

_Home?_

_His voice couldn’t be heard, and he tried to hold her arm to guide them out of the loud room, but his body remained in place._

_“Oh, Steven,” she cried. “Can’t you see?”_

_He wants to wipe her tears away. He wants to understand. He wants to scream._

_She got awfully close to his face, and he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she whispered, “The war is over. We are all dead.”_

_She took a few steps back, and he looked around to see Howard’s weapon designing facility. Peggy holding a gun and pointing it at him._

_“That’s the rarest metal on Earth,” he heard Howard’s voice say, and he looked down on his hand to see it hold a silver shield. He looked up to see the man smile, and just as he was about to attack him, a gun clicked, and he ducked his head behind the shield._

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_When he peeked his head through the metal circle, he was no longer in the presence of Peggy or Howard. He’s in New York. Times Square. Colorful screens of billboards around. Not a single soul in sight._

_“Admit it,” the heavy German accent voice came back. He spun around frantically in search for the source yet again with no avail. “You are out of time.”_

_The buildings collapsed before him. The billboards fell off as bolts of electric currents echoed and shut the screens down. The morning sky morphed into night. He tried to run away from the buildings he was sure were bound to crush him under but couldn’t. In the far distance, he saw the Avengers’ tower collapse._

_Everything was falling to its knees before him, except for one billboard screen kept intact to the remains of a building. After all the loud thuds of collapsed buildings came to halt, he peeked his head through all the debris and ruble to see the big screen before him come to life. Tony’s young tear stained face came into view._

_“When I drift off, I’ll think of you.”_

_Another loud thud._

_“Live with that. Die with that.”_

_The billboard screen blacked out, and it dislodged off the building to fall right above him. He anticipated the crush of his weight under it, and shut his eyes tightly to embrace it, but it never came._

_“Why?” He heard Tony’s young voice say. “Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he saving me?”_

_He opened his eyes to see himself in the mansion. Luxurious. Grand. Immaculate. He tried to run, and somehow, his body responded. Just as he got hold of the gold doorknob to his exist, he heard the echo of Howard’s answer. “It’s because you are not worth saving.”_

_He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly but surely started moving towards the room where the voices had come from: Howard’s study room._

_He saw Howard sat on an antique chair; a ten-year-old Tony knelt by his feet. The older man’s hand grabbed a fistful of his son’s hair and yanked at it for the boy to face the Captain. “Right, Steve?”_

_No! “Yes.”_

_He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He had said no. How_ _did it come out as otherwise? And why can’t he move now?_

_He saw tears roll down Tony’s face, and he attempted to scream. Nothing. No sound but Howard’s laughter echoed through the room._

_“That’s the rarest metal on Earth,” Howard said again. He looked down on his hand to see the shield yet again, except it’s been designed this time, and saw himself dressed in his uniform. He looked up to see a Captain America poster hung above a bed. On the bed, a teenage Tony stared up at him, his eyes wide and his lips trembling._

_Howard was by his side, and he tucked his hands in his pockets as he ordered the Captain to test out the strength of his shield. As if on autopilot, he marched against his will towards Tony’s fragile and trembling figure. He wants to scream. He wants to throw the shield Howard’s way. Instead, he stood above the teenager and raised his shield above his head. Tony’s tear-filled eyes were transfixed on his._

_He tried to move away. He tried to scream._

_“Please,” Tony whispered to him. “Please.”_

_He moved his arms to slam the shield against the young boy’s chest, and he shut his eyes tightly with a wince as he heard Tony whisper, “Please wake up.”_

_“Please wake up.”_

_“Please wake up.”_

“Please, Steve! Wake up!” 

He opened his eyes with a choked scream and saw chocolate eyes wear worry and relief. “There you are! You had me worried, big guy.” 

Steve tried to move only to realize he’s been lying on the floor. He tried to speak, but his trembling lips just hung open and breathed in what his nose made difficult to inhale. “Hey, hey, you don’t gotta speak now. Just breathe. Alright? You’re safe. You’re safe, I promise,” Tony cooed. The soldier tried to the best of his efforts to get up, speak, breathe, but all he could do was pull his knees up to his chest as he cried and trembled. 

His blurry vision could make out Tony’s body moving to lay by his side; his wet cheeks could feel warm hands cup them and wipe the wetness away; his ears could hear Tony’s soft voice speak words of comfort; his heart could beat a little steadier through the panic upon the sight of the glowing blue. 

“H-How... H-ow d-did...” 

“JARVIS alerted me.” 

“Y-You w-w-were... I-I w-w-as—” 

_Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he saving me?_

“Shh,” Tony cooed. “Everything’s okay. You’re okay. Can I hold you? Please let me hold you.” 

Steve nodded frantically at that, and Tony moved to cradle the soldier’s head against his chest. His chin rested against the soft, blonde locks as his fingers ran through them in a comforting manner. Steve was still trembling and sobbing against the man’s chest, but his blurry eyes were transfixed on the round metal glowing through Tony’s dark shirt. He didn’t even register his trembling hand resting against it, but god did it ease his mind to feel the beat of Tony’s heart against his palm. 

“I-I d-don't... do-don' de-s-serve y-you,” Steve hiccuped. 

“Don’t be silly,” Tony whispered. His heart broke as Steve’s fingers started tracing around the diameter of the arc reactor with mutters of “H-He’s a-alive" accompanied by pained sobs. The panic coursing through Steve’s mind wouldn’t calm down. Tony has never thought he would ever feel guilty over his suicide attempts, but now, that’s all his heart aches over. 

“I’m here, Steve. Alive and all,” Tony whispered. “Hey, look at me.” Steve pulled his head away ever so slightly to look up at the engineer through his wet lashes, and he bit his lips as hard as he could to prevent his loud sobs from interrupting the brunet as he spoke. 

“I’m here, okay? Not going anywhere, I promise. Not as long as I got you,” Tony said, a soft smile decorating his lips. He stroked his thumb over a lone tear rolling off Steve’s baby blue eyes. Steve nuzzled his head against the man’s chest and breathed in his scent, a comfortable mixture of a detergent, a faint cologne, motor oil, and coffee. He has never breathed easier. 

“Stay,” Steve’s muffled voice pleaded. “Stay forever.” 

“Only if you do.” 

A comfortable silence washed over the hours. Steve breathing in Tony’s scent and occasionally tracing his fingers around the glowing blue, Tony running his fingers through Steve’s hair and occasionally landing kisses atop the golden locks. None of them dared to move, no matter how numb their limbs grew to be, and none of them got any sleep. It was simply too good to miss on. 

Tony watched the sun rise through Steve’s window, and looked down on the man in his hold. His eyes softened and his heart skipped a beat when Steve looked up to him with a shy smile, and he blushed profusely when Steve gasped upon the pace of the heartbeats he felt under his palm. It occurred to him in this very moment that he isn’t scared of the Captain and hasn’t been so for a while now. He smiled to himself and landed yet another kiss on Steve’s forehead, who grinned in response. The sun shone brightly, and its rays smothered them in warmth, promising a kind, new day. 

“Good morning, Steve,” Tony whispered. 

“Good morning, Tony,” Steve whispered back. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

* * *

The occasional constrictions of his chest felt much worse. The sighs of agitation and frustration grew louder and much more frequent through the days. His eyes watered at night as he hugged a pillow close to his chest. The skin of his hands itched for the golden locks and porcelain, soft skin. 

_Is this what love does to a person?_ He wondered. 

Steve has been deployed to a two-months long solo mission, and if he’s being honest, he didn’t expect to miss the blonde as much as he did. He felt so out of place in his own tower now that Steve wasn’t around. 

Texting didn’t solve the issue, especially when Steve stopped replying at some point due to going undercover. Tony couldn’t sleep for the love of him. The team noticed his behavior and teased him for being such a love bird, which he had replied to with “Pfft, what?! I’m just worried and… I… misshimsomuch…” 

Of course, JARVIS was able to track the Captain and notify Tony of whether he was okay or not. He always held his breath as the British, firm voice listed injuries the Captain has acquired along the way, and only seemed to breathe easier again when said list was followed by “The mission is going according to plan. He is alive and well, Sir.” 

No amount of work binges or movie nights with the rest of the team could distract him. Resorting for alcohol had struck his mind, but then the reminder of him doing so well so far without a drop of that stuff quickly silenced the former thought. The days went by awfully slow, but he counted his resistance of self-destructive coping mechanisms as small victories, and in his head, Steve was cheering for him. 

Besides, there were only two days left. 

“Longest two days of my fucking life,” he muttered when he saw the calendar on his way to the tower from a headache inducing meeting. 

When he walked into the tower, everyone was doing the usual. Natasha was in her arcade, occasionally letting out Russian curses every time she almost lost, Clint was watching a movie from where he was perched up in a vent, Bruce was showing Thor how to write an email, and Rhodey was going through paper work in the dining room. 

He walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and had nearly broke the mug when Bruce chimed in “Oh, by the way, Steve’s back.” 

“Steve’s what?! When? JARVIS! Why haven’t you said anything?” 

“You muted me last night, remember?” JARVIS said teasingly. “Besides, it sounds like a delightful surprise now.” 

“You little shit! I’m donating you, I swear to god,” he muttered in his haste to wherever Steve is, which was in the bathroom of his floor. 

“Steve?” Tony called out as he knocked on the door. “Can I come in?” 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said from the other side. “I’m taking a bath and—” 

“So can I come in? Please?” 

“Of course, ba—” 

Warm and humid air hugged his suit clad body, and he didn’t mind. Leaning against the wall, he took in the image before him. The steam of hot water diffusing into the air, feather-like in its travel. Vanilla scented bubbles filled the white bathtub, though fingerprints of blood and dirt decorated its rim. The golden locks and soft porcelain skin his hands had itched to touch for the past month and twenty-eight days were stained in blood and smears of dirt, but the baby blue eyes— _those goddamn baby blue eyes_ —he couldn’t help but stare into as his own spoke of how much they missed such sight. And if his lungs felt the ache of breathing much easier again, he didn’t dare complain. It was his medicine.

“I missed you,” Steve breathed out. 

“I missed you,” Tony whispered back. “I missed you so much.” 

His itching hands burnt with the desire to touch Steve’s hair, touch Steve’s skin, touch _Steve_ _Steve Steve_. He complied. Shaking the heavy blazer of his suit off and taking his tie off, he rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt and sat on a short stool behind the Captain. Steve talked of how the mission went as Tony washed away dirt and blood out of his hair and listened intently. He couldn’t help but plant kisses to the back of his head and shoulders as he went about, and Steve’s heart skipped beats. 

As Steve talked of how he had come awfully close to death during the mission, Tony’s hands stilled. He couldn’t help the warm tears that flooded his vision, but when Steve casually mentioned how he had kept pushing and fighting to get back home— _”To get back to you, Tony”_ —the brunet couldn’t help tilting the blonde’s head to face him. 

“Please promise me you’ll always come back to me. Please promise me you’ll never leave,” Tony whispered. Steve’s wet hand washed the tears that came upon Tony’s face away. 

“I promise, my love.” 

* * *

With his head resting against Steve’s warm chest, he could finally sleep.

* * *

He knows what luxury looks like, smells like, tastes like, but he has never quite felt the delight of a luxurious life. Sure, he’s never had to suffer through financial issues and most probably never will, but it didn’t make breathing through life any easier. He was surely able to afford all sorts of cars and suits of ridiculously hefty prices, but all the money in the world could never help him afford the delight of recalling a lovely childhood memory, the gratitude over a loving father’s advice that guided him through life, or the warmth of being part of a family. The warmth and sweetness of such life were luxuries that simply could never be bought. You either had them or not.

 _So you’re a man who has everything, and nothing_. 

As the days passed by, he knew better than to lament over such thing. After all, he had people around him now. He doesn’t think these people realize just how crazy he would’ve gone if he had remained isolated and locked away in his lab, but he’s grateful it’s not like that anymore. He was left alone only when he absolutely needed to be, which was rarely ever. He didn’t have to be alone. It took him a while to learn how to reach out to people, because his therapist has raised quite an important thing to take note of: people can’t just read his mind. It was hard to grasp such idea, but as he stayed up through a work binge once upon a night, intrusive thoughts started feeding on his brain. It was right then and there that he had somehow understood what she had meant by practicing the art of reaching out, and so, he had inquired of Steve’s whereabouts. He walked into the dimly lit art studio where the artistic blonde sketched away. 

“Hey, Steve? I think I might do something stupid.” 

Of course, Steve understood what that meant every time. His attention would be fully directed upon the brunet, and he always praised him for reaching out because he knew just how hard it is on Tony to do so. 

Tony slowly but surely got better with confronting his past, aligning himself with his emotions and feelings, standing up for himself, and most importantly, giving himself validation. Sure, the weather gloomed and rained occasionally, and some nights were much stormier than others, but he knew better than to simply pray the rain and whistling wind away. He had figured out that his healing process had truly started with him the minute he simply knew better.

It didn’t happen overnight, and he is reminded of how much time has passed when Pepper walks into his office with two slices of cake and a proud, warm smile. “Happy one-year sober!” 

The last time he had been drunk was when he had to reside in the mansion. It seems so far behind him now, and he smiles widely and celebrates along with her. 

He still struggled, still couldn’t quite be as intimate as he desired to be with Steve, still panicked at the mention of Howard or Obadiah, still couldn’t be cruel to Aunt Peggy when she’d mistake him for her so-called pal of the past, and still had nightmares of Afghanistan and the wormhole. But today, he celebrates a year sober, and he figures there will be more days to come where he looks in the face of all his demons to smile and offer them chocolate cake in celebration of not being so scared anymore. 

It takes him weeks after that to sit between Thor and Steve during movie nights without feeling a tinge of fear or panic. If anything, he snuggled against them and even gave in to sleep when his eyes started drooping. 

It takes him fifteen more visits to Aunt Peggy for him to hold her wrinkled, lithe hands before correcting her. “I’m not Howard, Auntie. I’m Anthony. Tony. Your Tony. Remember me?” 

She furrowed her brows at him, but he kept a fond smile and an encouraging look. Slowly but surely, her face softened, and her eyes glinted in recognition of the man before her. “Tony,” she said gleefully. “Hello, my precious boy.” 

It takes him twenty-five more interviews for him to tell the host off sternly “One more mention of Obadiah, and I will walk right out.” He came back home that day to a proud Rhodey who ruffled his hair and hugged him tightly as he cheered “That’s my boy!” and a smirking Natasha who fist bumped him and kissed his cheek. “Good job, Antoshka.” 

It takes him eight more months to ask Steve out on an official date, and he has never felt happier as when he threw his money at a fancy restaurant to reserve the entire place to themselves and watch Steve blush profusely at his flirtatious remarks as he chewed on steak. After that, Tony had taken him on a cruise around Brooklyn, and watched the blonde roll down his window to listen to a street artist play the saxophone. Steve had his arms propped against the windshield’s edge, his chin resting atop them as he felt the breeze of the night caress his face and the melody ease his soul. The blonde turned his head to face the brunet and caught sight of the drooping eyes, the dopey smile, and the rosy blush all over the man’s face. 

“I’m so in love right now,” Tony whispered as he leaned in, and Steve felt the passionate, deep kiss warm his heart. 

It takes him a month after that to initiate a sexual encounter. He had talked to Steve about it, and the blonde reassured him that he would be in complete control of when things would start and end. 

“I don’t wanna start something and then... just... leave you hanging, y’know?” Tony muttered anxiously. 

“I could handle that, no worries,” Steve grinned as he wiggled the fingers of his right hand, and Tony rolled his eyes as he jokingly punched at the soldier’s chest. 

“Alright, alright. Just... I’m sorry if I—” 

“You never ever have to be sorry over any of this, okay? You’ve come a long way, baby. Just take a deep breath and do whatever you wanna do whenever you’re ready.” 

Tony took a deep breath as instructed and settled next to Steve on the grand couch of his art studio. He started it out how he said he would: slow and with a kiss. He wanted to feel this for what it is, which was nothing short of a safe, warm moment of intimacy. He deepened the kiss as his hands started to wander all over Steve’s body. If he’s being honest with himself, he could feel himself start to stall as his hands touched everywhere but between the man’s legs, and he was absolutely frustrated with himself. Steve sensed it and pulled away just to tell him “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, sweetheart.” 

“But I wanna do it! Please just... don’t talk, okay? I’ll get there. I'll get there,” he whispered the last part to himself and leaned in again. His hands found their way around the muscular, hard body again. They went lower, and lower, and lower, and— 

_Proper sex. Like a real man._

He pulled away abruptly. His hands shaking as he anticipated a scolding because— _no, stop that._ He urged himself to look up at Steve— _sweet, kind, caring Steve_ —who's eyes wore worry. “Tony? You here with me, sweetheart?” 

Tony nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shh, none of that, okay? I love you,” he planted a gentle kiss on the brunet’s jaw. “I love you, I love you, I love you. What you feelin’ up to, sweetheart?” 

Tony shrugged, and Steve held his chin up to look at him. “Hey. You’ve come a long way. You’ve got all the time in the world.” 

“But... it’s taking so damn long.” 

“I’ll wait on you forever,” Steve whispered as he kissed the man’s hands. Tony smiled warmly. “There’s that smile!” 

It was absolutely ridiculous to Tony how easily Steve could cheer him up, and he held onto him and nuzzled his face against the man’s chest. “I love you,” he mumbled. 

“And I love you,” Steve replied with a kiss to the brunet’s forehead. “Now let me hold you and feed you blueberries.” 

Later into the night, they talked and rambled on whatever came to their minds. Tony loved lazy nights like those. Steve looked so young and happy as he spoke and cuddled him, and Tony was pretty sure hearts could be seen in his eyes. 

He watched Steve fall asleep in his arms. A sigh of content escaped his lips as he ran his fingers through the blonde hair. He could hear Natasha and Clint blast metal music from a few floors away, could hear Rhodey and Bruce yell at Thor from the rooftops as the god summoned bolts of thunder and lightning, and could hear Steve occasionally mumble “I love you, Tony” in his sleep. 

_So you’re a man who has everything, and nothing._

Perhaps there was far more truth in that statement than he had let on to the man he befriended in that cave. Whatever _everything_ was supposed to be, which he understands must have referred to the stacks upon stacks of money he owns, felt like nothing all along; his life had felt like swimming in a pool of nothingness. 

Now, he could say he has everything. Now, he could say he knows what luxury is, and it sure didn’t look like stacks of green paper or golden staircases, smell of Gucci colognes, or taste of caviar.

He has a troubled heart, a group of misfits living under his roof, an irrational fear of sexual intimacy, a loyal best friend of many years, mental disorders that hindered his functioning, and a loving, patient partner who he loves with every inch of his fiber. The money of the world couldn’t have spared him the trauma of his past, and it couldn’t have afforded him the company of the great people he’s surrounded with in the present. 

As he grows weary with sleep, he comes to the realization that what he has now surely isn’t perfect; the burdens of the past and his sick mind are bound to trouble him. However, the warmth and sweetness of what his life is like now had once been thought of as luxuries he simply couldn’t have.

Looking over the sleeping man in his arms and tuning into the music and yells echoing around, he comes to believe that this is luxury. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much for reading :') 
> 
> please leave a comment of your thoughts and opinions!!
> 
> translation of italian words:  
> "Sei al sicuro. Sei lontano da quel posto. Sei qui, in America. Nella torre. Stai bene." = You're safe. You are far from that place. You are here, in America. In the tower. You're okay.


End file.
